Murdock & Knight
by cocotiks
Summary: By day, Detective Riley Knight and Defense Attorney Matt Murdock are natural enemies in the courtroom. By night, Riley makes it her job to track down Daredevil and remove the man from the mask. Fisk's downfall has erupted in a power struggle in Hell's Kitchen. Riley and Matt see an inevitable war brewing in the horizon. Can they put aside their differences and fight together?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! I completely fell in love with Daredevil after binge-watching it. This idea has been knocking around in my head for a while now. It explores the aftermath of Fisk's demise. I hope the twist my OC brings is fresh and new to all of you, it's an extremely complicated relationship which I found fun and challenging to write.**

 **Disclaimer: the characters and events depicted in this fanfic belong to Marvel. I write this story purely for the purpose of my enjoyment. (And yours, hopefully)**

* * *

' _Welcome to the 15th Precinct_

 _The Pride of Hell's Kitchen'_

She glared at the sign hanging over the Sergeant's Desk.

In Riley's line of work she's seen how far humanity can decline. There are some days where she doesn't know if she could ever forget the crime, the murder, the abuse, the depraved act she witnessed.

She probably hasn't even scraped the bottom of the barrel yet.

But that sign. She used to believe in it. See it every time she walked into the station, have a glint of her hope in her heart that at least they were doing the right thing. You could forget the politics, the rulebooks, and the discrimination; as long as you believed you were doing this for a cause far greater than you.

 _Don't forget the crazy_. Namely; the masked man, or 'Daredevil', as he preferred nowadays.

She'd spent two weeks in the hospital, most of it in a medically induced coma, after a sniper bullet shot her a centimeter too close to her right subclavian artery, the night the Russians blew to kingdom come. She had blamed him for hospitalizing her until she knew otherwise. That night was the closest she'd ever come to the enigma.

The day Detective Hoffman walked in and said the seven words that sent tremors through the precinct for months to come, was the day the sign lost all meaning to her.

 _"I would like to make a statement."_

She'd seen him, moving like an apparition, blood spray on his terrified face. Prior to that; she'd seen things, heard things that made her unsure if she could wholly trust the policeman next to her. He'd confirmed that.

The Feds came next. She'd seen that too. When she refused to sit uselessly in a hospital bed and find out what the hell was going on at the station.

A part of her wished she hadn't.

Nearly half the officers in the precinct were arrested for corruption.

A few months had passed since that fateful day. People still whispered about Fisk. It wasn't as bad as the first month, where she heard nothing but the asshole's name in her ear every goddamn hour.

She ripped her gaze from the sign and walked to the elevator. "Knight!" Alfonso Valentin jogged over and gave her file in one hand and a coffee in another. "Another missing girl. Same circumstances as the previous one. White, mid-20's, last seen outside a bar on 43rd."

She smiled; "Thanks Alf."

"You're welcome. And you're late again, sergeant says that's your last warning."

Riley yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Can't sleep." The insomnia had started after she almost died, and there was still discomfort when she moved her right arm.

"You alright?" He asked genuinely concerned. The Sergeant was persistently trying to get her into trauma therapy. She didn't find the idea of talking to a stranger on a plush couch about her problems very appealing, however.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. Get going Alfie, and don't overwork yourself, Maggie wouldn't want you strung out on your anniversary."

He smacked his forehead. "Oh crap! Thanks for reminding me!" She laughed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "Oh and the trial has been pushed to 11am."

"The jewelry store heist, gotcha."

He hurried off to his desk, most likely to book the dinner reservations he should have made a month ago.

Nonetheless; everyone was trying to move on. Crime rates had fallen when its Kingpin was arrested. People often gossiped that the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had a hand in Fisk's demise. But one thing the masked man did not anticipate; when you overthrow the King, its chaos.

And Riley was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Riley loved her job. She did. But to say work hasn't been fun the last few months was a grand understatement. The station was stretched thin. And Riley was forced to undertake several positions she had never expected to have. Without the benefits of a raise either. If she wasn't training rookies, she was doing the patrols on the graveyard shift, all that on top of her the cases she caught on vice. She didn't know why she didn't just quit and form a PI Firm.

 _Because you're a stubborn son of a bitch. And quitting sounds a lot like giving up to your ears._

She skim read the missing person's report at her desk. A CI had tipped her about a reopened pipeline for human trafficking at the dockyard on the East Hudson. The missing girls were connected to that. The informant wasn't the most reliable individual, but she was eager to give Riley the info in exchange for her probation reduced.

Who was running it again, no one knew. Rumor had it was the Italians, restarting their ventures in Hell's Kitchen after the Russians went kaboom. But with Fisk's nefarious actions exposed and thrown into the harsh white light (the man himself awaiting trail)—it was open season.

…

At 11:30 am Riley and Alfonso sat in a pew in the courtroom waiting for the trial to commence. It was the trial of a jewel store heist from a month ago, one of the more straightforward and non-violent felonies she'd dealt with in recent months. They had an unimpeachable witness and they both agreed the conviction was a slam dunk.

"Knight, Valentin."

"District Attorney Moors, what's up?"

"There's been a slight delay; Ainsley isn't going to make it."

She smirked; "That's a shame I was looking forward to rubbing our win in his face."

Alfie chuckled beside her. Detective and defense attorneys were known not to get along. "Who's he getting replaced by?"

"Let me see." Moors fumbled in his pocket for his phone and pulled out the names of the replacement lawyers; "Murdock and Nelson."

Similar looks of confusion crossed Riley and Alfie's face. "Who?"

She heard a steady _tap-tap_ she had not noticed before. She glanced behind her; a man with longish blonde hair, pink dress shirt, blue tie, and grey suit drew beside them. Another man held onto the crook in his arm, similarly dressed, subtracting the pink shirt for a white one. He wore dark-red, almost black sunglasses, and carried a white cane in his other hand. _Blind._

The blonde man smiled brightly; "Actually it's Nelson and Murdock. Good morning everyone," he greeted boisterously. They stared at him blank-faced. He cleared his throat hoping to alleviate the awkwardness, "Yup. We're just going to take our seats now."

…

Foggy 'steered' Matt to their oak desk on the right hand side of the court room in front of the pews. He didn't have his best friend's super-power senses but even he could feel the prosecutions' eyes pinprick the nape of his neck.

He took one look at their client and immediately doubted said best friends super senses. Once they settled into their seats and took out contents of their briefcases, he leaned to Matt conspiratorially.

Ever since the Fisk scandal put their firm's name in the limelight they had gotten the occasional walk-in, (he still had to bribe Brett's mother for first-pickings however) that didn't mean everyone who came to them for representation was an angel.

"Okay buddy, I know you're a human lie detector, but are you sure about this?" He opened the file that Karen complied for them on short notice. "Our guy's a convicted felon; B&E, larceny. I thought we were only looking for exclusively innocent clientele."

Matt had his hands clasped together on the desk, calm as still water. "He didn't rob the store himself. But I have a feeling he's protecting someone."

He couldn't be bothered to ask _how_ he knew that, not now anyway. It was most likely a long-winded explanation that would only result in more confusion and unanswered questions. Would probably make him think about Matt's alter ego (a baffling discovery he was still reeling from and had yet to come to terms with) which was never a topic of conversation either man liked discussing unless completely necessary.

"Seriously? Who?"

He gave a small shrug, "I don't know. Not the kind of question you ask without raising suspicion." Then he titled his head a fraction, his chin following, only recently did Foggy understand that Matt did the gesture when he was listening to every microscopic detail around them and even further than that. The scope of the radar sense was still a mystery to him.

 _Three months ago he was a normal guy-blind, but normal. How did I miss_ this _?_

He deduced Matt was eavesdropping on the DA and the two detectives. To Foggy their mouths moved, words he could not hear being exchanged. The female detective with the dark brown hair felt his gaze, the sharpness of her blue eyes made him look away. Foggy was all for finding shortcuts and loopholes in the law if it helped them, but this felt a little too much like cheating.

Matt finally spoke up; "We have the evidence to undermine the prosecution."

Foggy cleared his throat, blew out a breath, and stretched his arms. _Best damn avocados in the city_ he chanted in his head. "I open. You close."

…

They fell into general rhythm of the trial, much like how you tie your shoe laces. Matt liked to imagine he and Foggy were a boxing partners in the ring tagging each other when it was their turn to spar with the opponent.

The energy in the room shifted with expectancy, curiosity, and doubt at the blind lawyer who stood before the prosecution's witness (which had them overtly confident of a win, from what he heard).

They clearly had no idea what force they were up against.

"Mr. Wells, you're sure this is the man you saw leaving the store at the time of the heist?" Matt pointed behind him at the window, not directly at their client (maintaining the pretext that he was entirely blind in every sense of the word).

There was a skip to his heartbeat, Wells tightened his fists and the pores on his palms burst open with perspiration when he answered yes.

 _Lie._

He opened a file with his free hand, fingertips running over the Braille for effect, while his ears paid attention to the reaction of the prosecution. "Says here; you have a conviction for perjury is that correct? From 2004?"

" _I knew about that, what is he playing at?"_ The female detective whispered to her partner, but there was a tremor of uncertainty beneath her firm tone.

Matt hid his triumphant smile, as he gave the room his closing statement. "And is Paul Wells really your name or is Lionel Tedici?" the jury held their breath— "As in: _Lionel Tedici_ who is facing fraud charges in New Hampshire?"

The jury erupted in shocked murmurs, that were soft to everyone else but were a stampede to Matt. The detectives suppressed groans of frustration at their clerical error.

Foggy pumped his fist in victory beneath the table behind him. He shut the file with one hand, bowed his head slightly, and smoothed his tie against his chest. "No further questions your honor."

…

Moors ushered them into the corner of the hallway after the bungled trial. _So much for a slam dunk conviction,_ she thought miserably _. "_ Judge gave a recess but if we don't get any new evidence by tomorrow we have no chance."

"Great pep talk," she said dryly. "Don't worry, we'll get some evidence."

Outside, the pleasant, gentle summer wind juxtaposed her sour mood. Nelson and Murdock were shaking hands with their client Eli Somner on the sidewalk. _Smug bastards._ The small group was unavoidable however, as she had to walk past them on the way to the car.

Riley had no intention to interact but Alfie did on her behalf much to her chagrin. Nelson tapped his partner's arm when they shouldered past. Murdock was slightly taller than him, wearing a polished navy blue suit. Taking him in a second time; his stubble was almost artful, lips reddened and flushed from laughter, brown Cadbury chocolate hair tousled effortlessly. If she wasn't so angry that their case was on the verge of falling apart she might have found him handsome. And that annoyed her even more.

"You know your client did it," said Alfonso.

She vaguely wondered if Murdock could tell how people felt during a conversation just by their voice. Having never met a blind person before; there were a hundred things she never considered about them until that moment.

The corner of his mouth upturned, "My job is to make you prove he did it. That's the basis of our entire justice system."

Franklin nodded. She had to admit, the way they had coordinated and seamlessly melded their arguments together was impressive. If this was what was coming out of law schools nowadays she had to up her game.

"Without a credible witness your case is a mess," Franklin added.

Their arrogance was really getting on her nerves. But professionalism dictated she end this conversation before it turned ugly. "We'll see you here tomorrow, gentlemen."

…

Alfie volunteered to find the evidence. He returned to Eli Somner's residence to find the break-in tool or the stolen gems. It was either one of those or return to court with their tails between their legs. Luckily, they found the tools.

The next day, the defense called Riley to the witness stand.

"You found some new evidence last night," the blind lawyer remarked offhandedly, standing a few feet from the stand, he was looking (or not looking?) somewhere beside her ear.

"A duffel bag in a dumb waiter at the defendant's home contained tools such as glass cutters and hammers."

"Isn't it possible he could have used these items for other purposes?" Matt argued, his voice a crisp, clear staccato. She found it unnerving that she could not see his eyes, only her reflection in the lenses.

"In the same bag as the burglary tools we found shards of glass."

"So detective, you expect us to believe you found this new evidence yesterday just as your case was collapsing around you?" He queried doing a sweeping gesture.

This was the part she hated; when her credibility was put to the test. She was a good detective; she worked hard for years fighting discrimination in a career dominated by men. She was one of the youngest in her squad and she didn't get there by being a corrupt liar like her former peers. "It is the truth. Do you doubt our capacity to carry out a swift and fair investigation, counselor?" She bit out coldly.

His eyebrows rose slightly above his glasses, he laughed tonelessly; "In the light of recent events, can you truly blame the public's disillusionment with their demoralized police force? Is there even an honest cop left in the precinct?"

To hell with professionalism. Her face heated up, her mouth opened to protest when the judge slammed the gavel cutting her off.

"Murdock. Knight." He reprimanded in a deep baritone. "Please keep your personal opinions to yourselves."

Murdock's mouth twisted and he retreated from her; "Nothing further, your honor," he said emotionlessly.

After a short break it was time to hear the jury's verdict. Her heart was still pounding against her ribcage with adrenaline after the brief spat with Murdock. This was not her first rodeo, she had no idea why she let him rile her. There was just something about him that brought out unhealthy emotions from within her.

The juror stood, with the slip of paper that contained their verdict. She had seen hundreds of men, women of all ages, countless backgrounds and ethnicities stand at the exact same spot the man was and read out whatever was on that slip. But for the first time in a long time Riley found herself anxious to hear the words he was moments away from uttering.

"We, the jury find the defendant, Eli Somner: not guilty."

Riley groaned and slapped her head in her hands. The judge slammed the gavel and the trial was resoundingly over.

"Another criminal walks free," she muttered into her palms, royally pissed at how easily they had unwound a month of her hard work.

"We should get back," said Alfonso, equally disappointed.

She stood on the landing outside waiting for Alfie when someone tapped her shoulder. She was surprised at who it was. _The last two people on Earth I want to talk too._

"Detective Knight. May I formally introduce ourselves; Foggy Nelson, Matthew Murdock."

Riley didn't refuse. She was an adult and this was just another part of her job. She accepted his handshake. When it was Matthew's turn her hand lingered in the air unshaken, a moment long enough for the situation to get awkward. She realized he couldn't see it. She immediately felt like shit.

Foggy saved her, "Hand," he whispered, but loud enough she could hear him. His eyes were narrowed at Matthew, smiling wryly, shaking his head slightly. Murdock simply kept his head level and lifted his hand for her to take.

"I guess we've been formally introduced," she said as bland as a salt cracker.

"Actually, my partner wanted to apologize for his outburst in the courtroom," Foggy swiveled his head to look at his partner. Silence. He nudged his shoulder to get him to speak.

"I'm sorry." A robot would have made that apology sound more sincere.

"Wow, you almost sound like you mean it."

He swallowed, the stony façade breaking, "I do, detective. What I said was out of context."

She pursed her lips. "Apology accepted. This has been delightful, but you'll have to excuse me." She bowed out of the conversation and went to join the flow of people.

She was stopped before she took five steps when her title was called out, "Detective, wait!" Riley glanced behind her; Murdock was lingering in the space between them, having released his hold on Foggy whom was shaking his head in disbelief.

She frowned at his lack of movement until it hit her he expected her to walk back to him. This was already overstepping their professional boundaries, but she returned to him anyway, wary but curious.

"I know you're in a hurry," he said. "But Somner is innocent."

Her patience with him was running thin. "Yes, Mr. Murdock," she nodded, _Riles you idiot, he can't see that either._ "We were all there, we heard the jury's verdict ten minutes ago."

"He didn't commit grand larceny, that doesn't mean he doesn't know who did it."

She folded her arms over her chest and studied him more closely; she didn't know what to make of this unexpected turn. "Go on."

"I think it would be worth investigating Somner's previous associates, perhaps family, anyone he's had close ties with in the past."

She stared at him; if he couldn't see her furrowed brows then he could hear the thick skepticism in her words. "And why are you telling me this? How do you even know this?"

He immediately diverted the query with a neutral smile, one hand in his pant pocket the other on his cane; "You're the detective, and I gave you lead."

She unfolded her arms restlessly, "You call that a lead?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know, would I? You're the detective." He smiled wickedly, as if he couldn't believe she was letting him off with that cocky remark. Unfortunately for her, it was unhelpfully endearing and coaxed a smirk from her.

She was glad he couldn't see it.

He closed both hands around the grip of his cane and drew imperceptibly closer to her. "I'll go easy on you next time," he whispered.

She groaned and rolled her eyes, remembering what kind of person she was dealing with and why they were natural enemies. "You know for a moment there, you were almost charming."

Then she saw Alfie waving her over. Riley bid farewell to Matthew Murdock. They had traded barbs and established a competitive relationship, but the verdict on whether she could trust his word remained uncertain.

…

As they walked back to the firm, he tilted his chin to Foggy. His friend's breath pushed through his larynx as he opened his mouth to say something; "If all cops looked like that, you should try a little harder to get arrested, Matty."

"Foggy," he sighed, but his face was already splitting into a smile.

Foggy nudged him playfully; he absorbed the impact and swayed with it.

"Aw c'mon, you did the hand move, you knew!"

…

Back at the precinct she reviewed the missing person's report from yesterday, which she finally had the time to get too. It was more of a pet project really. With the strict doctrine of their new captain (the previous one was arrested for taking bribes from Fisk) it was an unwise career move for her to divert her efforts from her given assignment.

But the tip her CI gave peaked her interest, and once you had Riley's interest it was enough for her to throw her weight into a case and relentlessly pursue the lead until the mystery was solved. Alfie joked that she had a problem; she liked to think she simply loved a challenge.

A college student had been snatched off the street outside a club on 49th and 12th. She was the first girl to go missing, the second girl less than a day later under similar circumstances. The kidnappers were getting bolder and they were fast. Captain Humphrey did not find her evidence credible and denied her the task force she requested to investigate the network before the girls traded too many hands and would be lost to the world.

But wasn't prepared to let this go and hand it over to Missing Persons.

…

Close to midnight, she pulled over the squad car five blocks from the dockyard.

Beyond the tall fencing, the shipping containers were stacked marching off into the murky darkness where the street lights did not touch. Their sharp square angles etched into the starless sky where the moon was a fading suggestion behind iron grey clouds.

Her body felt heavy in the body armour she wore and there was familiar cords of pain from the healed bullet hole in her shoulder. Nonetheless, her feet remained quick and light as she clocked her gun and followed along the perimeter. As she suspected, the guardhouse was empty. The fenced gate wasn't bolted, _turning a blind eye or an honest mistake?_ She let herself in and observed the signage.

It was eerily quiet, and once or twice she found herself getting lost in the shadows, anticipating one of those shadows to be a lurking threat ready to attack her. It's happened before. When she wasn't careful. But she dealt with it all the same.

She continued sleuthing and the grunts of struggles loudened. She silently thanked her CI for the accurate intel. Riley flattened herself against a container and peeked around the edge.

Four women whimpered in terror before the mercy of four masked men, aiming guns at their heads to intimidate them into getting into the open container. Riley saw the college girl and the other one who'd gone missing. There were two others she didn't recognize, whose disappearances had probably never been reported. They stood apart from the missing girls, staring absently ahead with dead eyes as if they had been through this before.

"I told you bitches to get the fuck in!" Bellowed the one closest to the college girl, Natalie, was her name.

 _Those guns have to be loaded with blanks; no way would they leave a scratch or wound on the merchandise._ She didn't want to take the chance however. Riley had to tamper down her anger, and her brain raced to formulate a plan of action. Perhaps this was an example of her youth, her inexperience but she would be damned if she let those dickheads at the precinct have the last laugh. She had been right about this hunch in the end.

Going in solo, guns and glory would surely end with her as target practice for those assholes. But back-up would take at least three minutes to arrive and anything could happen in three minutes. She radioed in anyway. If she went around she could attack the straggler with a chokehold and surprise the others. They wouldn't hear her coming-

A black shape flew through the air and struck the trafficker talking in the head.

They jumped like scared cats, swivelling left and right to locate the source of the shape.

"Shit!"

"What the hell was that?"

Riley held her breath and waited, waited for what she knew was coming. He held them in suspense a moment longer.

The next projectile whacked the face of straggler she had intended to take out.

Daredevil soared down from atop a container, landing in the center of the four men.

The moonlight highlighted hints of his blood red tactical suit. She froze. _Engage. Do not engage. Engage. Do not engage._

But he made the decision for her when he started to move.

Her jaw was slowly hitting the floor as she watched Daredevil singlehandedly take them out with Billy clubs and his fists. One of them tried to fire, he jammed their hand up and the shot exploded in the air, he threw them like a rag doll onto the cement. The first one he clubbed had recovered, they lunged and managed a clumsy right hook. Daredevil let him come closer and then did an impressive double kick that sent him sprawling. He finished him off with an uppercut that dislodged a few bloody teeth.

 _Move your damn legs Riley, c'mon!_ But she couldn't.

He went on to deal with the other three. Her eyes flickered around trying to keep up with his rapid movements in the dark. He moved with brutal fluidity. It was both beautiful and cruel. And she could honestly watch him all night. He could anticipate his opponent's next move as if he could read their mind. Sense the wind in a punch rushing to him and break the man's wrist before it so much as came within three feet of him, then swipe his legs from under him.

No wonder those cops had their asses handed to them when they cornered him in that alley.

They were undeniably outmatched.

She wasn't keen to get beat up either.

Never losing a beat, he continued jabbing, ducking, darting into the air and going down low, only to come back up again with unrivaled force to knock out the next man.

 _He's just a normal guy beneath the red costume, and the horns._ Horns _for Christ's sake._ But it definitely spurned the desired effect when the last henchman, seeing he had no chance, ran from him out of fear, screaming curses that he couldn't be paid enough to die for this.

Riley took the opportunity to truncheon him in the neck with the grip of her gun. It felt good to get at least one of them. While he was out she quickly handcuffed him and returned her focus to Daredevil.

"Go!" He yelled at the girls. They let out frightened cries but obeyed. He looked at where she was hiding but not quite looking, almost as if he knew she was there and waited for her.

Riley emerged from her position, pointing her gun, not to threaten them, but just so she had it ready for what came next.

"NYPD!"

They deafened her with their combined screech. She was in plain clothes but her badge was in view, hooked on her belt. Her flashlight sailed over their faces, and came to rest on the container Daredevil had perched on. She saw the sole of his foot flying into the air and she knew the chase was on.

"Back-up is on its way, get to the light, get out of here!" She ordered them and broke into a sprint in the direction Daredevil escaped from.

Yes, Daredevil had saved those girls. Yes, she had frozen and let him do the hard work. But what else was she supposed to do? _Join him?_ She'd never hear the end of it at the precinct. The psycho in the red costume, whose loyalties and motivations no one could come to a consensus too? Not even her, to be honest. _Cop-killer or hero?_ _Terrorist or freedom fighter?_

But every terrorist was someone else's freedom fighter.

And vigilantism was outlawed.

Riley ran between the maze of containers following the soft thud of the masked man's feet. She considered herself to be in pretty good shape but he was clearly in far superior physical health. She shot at his outline but he kept moving. There was only one way he was going to get out of the dockyard; The Hudson River or the fencing. Daredevil wasn't going to have anywhere to run once she had every single square foot of this place swarming with uniforms.

But then he slipped out of her line of view, almost as if she'd imagined him in the first place. She arrived at a crossroads, walls of containers on all four sides. Chasing him in circles only to get herself lost was doing no one any favors, she had those girls to get back too. She skidded to a halt and put her hands on her knees, gasping for breath. She was sweating beneath her vest.

"You can't run forever," she panted, knowing he could hear her, wherever he was hiding.

"I'm going to catch you, you son of a bitch," she promised. "And when I do, that mask won't protect you."

...

Matt crouched against a container not twenty feet from the police officer he had evaded. He listened to her threat, a faint amused smirk touching his lips. She meant every word. But the chase had tired her out. He could tell from the contraction and extension of her calves that she was an excellent runner. He thought he recognized her scent, after filtering through the last 48 hours he identified its bearer; _Detective Riley Knight._

Her blood pressure was within normal range despite the strenuous exercise of chasing him. She was fit, and if she were chasing anyone else who lacked his parkour skills, she might have caught them.

He had known a female cop was watching, waiting to attack and arrest the traffickers on her own. Her heartbeat had been the steadiest in the perimeter, and only grew more restless when she saw him. She exhaled air with practiced cycles to calm herself. But her posture was what gave away her training; stiff shoulders, ram-rod straight spine to the point of overdoing it, an air of authority surrounding her.

Whether she was clean or dirty, (they might have gotten the bent cops under Fisk's payroll but he had no doubt they'd missed a few who had been clever enough to hide their tracks and minimize their involvement) he would have to ask Sgt. Brett Mahoney, (using Foggy's subterfuge and cigar bribes) and play it off as a casual inquiry.

She was 5'6 and wouldn't have been an issue for him if she tried to engage in combat in the midst of his takedown. He would've loathed tackling her to the ground though, since she was only trying to do her job.

He braced himself for her bullets, to taste the lead tinging the air. But her finger never stamped the trigger. She left him to do what he was good at.

Did she stop herself from intervening out of complete trust that he would accomplish what he set out to do that evening?

Unlikely.

But she had helped him by catching that thug who ran scared. At least she could prioritize getting the traffickers over getting him. Though that alliance was short-lived the moment she started shooting at him.

He was unsurprised that the police still couldn't come to an agreement of what he was to the city, what he was trying to achieve. It was a thorn in his side, to have well-meaning officers mistrust him and defy him at every turn like he was the villain. But in their eyes he was. He wasn't something they were used too, or even wanted to welcome into Hell's Kitchen. They were the law and had always been.

But a little run didn't bother him.

Then; a sharp shooting pain snaked down his arm. He clenched his jaw and listened to his own biology. _Flesh wound, two centimeters, right forearm._ He sensed every ridge and valley the bullet made like the geography of a canyon as it tore through his skin.

But by now, pain was an old friend he welcomed.

He was almost impressed that she had nearly got him. If more cops had her aim, he might be dead already.

He heard the sirens arriving from the south west. Two cars. He could make it. Matt gathered his hunches and jumped to the next container. One police officer with a personal vendetta against vigilantes wasn't going to be a problem for him.

…

Riley caught her breath and went back to handcuff the thugs. The sirens wailed in the distance. She knew she was going to have a mountain of paperwork tomorrow and a meeting with Captain Humphrey that wasn't going to end well either. She was impulsive, disregarded procedure and almost got herself and the girls killed.

When she arrived at the open container she felt her boot step in something wet.

She looked down, the light illuminated what was unmistakably blood, as bloody red as the vigilante's costume had been.

Pulse skyrocketing, she drew her gun once more and stepped into the open space.

Four bodies lied on the cement, motionless, blank eyes reflecting the night sky.

The men she had seen Daredevil defeat were dead all around her.

…

By noon the next day the girls were returned safely to their homes after she procured statements from them. Natalie's parents thanked Riley profusely when they met her. She always found meeting relatives of victims to be incredibly awkward. It was either tears of joy or tears of grief and Riley liked none of those two scenarios.

She was the primary topic of gossip however. As predicted, Captain Humphrey requested a meeting with her immediately. She passed several individuals on the way to his office;

Alfonso. She had expected words of encouragement from him, but the look he gave her was as if she was staring at a complete stranger. Never in the nine years she had known him had he ever looked at her so coldly.

She ducked her head and kept walking. When she looked up she passed the booking desk. She saw the lawyers from the jewel-store heist. _Could my morning get any worse?_ It took her a second to remember their names.

Foggy smiled at her. Matthew had a thin scar on his cheekbone which threw her momentarily. _Did he get mugged or something?_ He didn't smile when she passed, but she did notice his bloodless knuckles wrapped around the top of his cane. She was too tired to care though.

...

"The masked man was on the scene when I got there," she stoically told Humphrey when he asked for a full report.

Frank Sinjon, glared at her from across the room, wiry arms folded tight, judging her. He had been the one Humphrey sent to fetch her from interrogation. He had it out for her since she personally arrested his girlfriend when she tried to run from the Feds. She did not trust him either, because how could he have no idea what Gale was up to?

"Can't do your job without a vigilante holding your hand, Knight?" He sneered. It was just like him to be petty and open old wounds. _I guess everyone's still mad at each other, angry at the traitors we worked alongside and never saw or just ignored._

She had expected this reaction. Just not this soon. She was not in the mood for his bullshit after twenty hours of zero sleep. "Coming from the dickhead who can't do his job at all. 'This is all conjecture,'" she made air apostrophes, tossing his words back at him. "How does it feel to be completely wrong about your judgement? _Again?"_ She referred to his choice of girlfriend.

"Hey! Not in my office!" Snapped Humphrey, slamming a giant palm on his desk before Frank retaliated. He stabbed a finger at her. "Knight, you're meant to be working DCU, not trafficking."

"Drugs, human trafficking, prosts it's all under vice."

He exhaled in exasperation. "You were assigned to the task force following the trail of the Chinese heroin, to work in conjunction with the DEA, _not_ to go off on your own, with no back-up or reasonable plan. Have you lost your goddamn mind?" Cap. Marshal Humphrey was the type of man who could be as expressive as a block of granite then explode when you least expected him too. She had seen this coming however.

"I called for back-up, but they were late."

He shook his head and looked down. Any second now he was going to start yelling. "Oh so do you prefer to get killed?! Care to explain the streak of reckless behavior from you, detective? What about the jewel store heist you assured me you had in the bag? What happened there?"

 _I almost died! I lost my friends! I was betrayed! We all were!_ She wanted to scream at him. But instead tried to reason; "Last night was a recon mission, my CI was known to be unreliable, I didn't think I was going to catch anything."

"You must follow procedure," he broke the sentence into parts to empathize. "When Jonas captained this precinct he gave his detectives too much free reign, which led to the Fisk scandal that decimated our numbers by _half_."

If they weren't a dwindling police force she knew she would be suspended. He couldn't afford to remove her from her duties, despite her disobedience. Thus, he settled for merciless admonishment.

"Were you trying to be a hero, is that it? Because that is not what we are here."

"No," she said sheepishly, wincing at his comment.

"No—what?"

"No, sir," she added grudgingly. "But I found them. I saved them." That had to count for something right? Weren't they still New York's finest? Didn't that mean something to anyone anymore? _Maybe Murdock was right, the people don't trust us anymore._

He snorted, "You and your new partner; 'Daredevil'. Sounds like you didn't make the effort to catch him at all."

 _Now that's really not fair._ "I did. But he's fast. You've seen the footage of him," she groused.

His bushy salt and pepper eyebrows raised high. "Are you telling me we should sit back and leave crime fighting in the hands of this psycho?"

"No. Sir. But he helped me get them, inadvertently." She couldn't dust off that fact like it didn't happen.

"And then you let him _murder_ them—the traffickers you set out to apprehend! The one you handcuffed was in your _custody_ and now he's dead!"

 _Mistakes. So many mistakes._ There was nothing left to say but the honest to God truth; "he didn't kill them, Captain. I watched him beat them up. I pursued him on foot. That's it. I swear he did not kill those men."

Humphrey waved this off. "Tell it to internal affairs, detective. We don't tolerate vigilantes. That's final!" He stabbed the table to make this point. "And I'm reassigning this case to Sinjon."

"What?" She burst out angrily; she threw her arm at Frank. "He never believed me in the first place—"

He shook his head again, and she braced for the blast. "It's out of your hands, detective! You get an assignment. You stay on it." He was good at doling out orders though, and if you teetered from them, then you threatened to break the entire system.

 _But it's already broken isn't it?_

"You're the lead detective on the heroin task force. _Be happy_."

He tossed the case file to her like it was a handkerchief. It wasn't sealed properly so papers scattered when she caught it. She wanted to scream when she heard a low chuckle come out of Frank's mouth.

The Captain grunted in what she assumed was meant to be an apology. "Do the job that's been given to you, Knight. Is that so damn hard for you to understand?"

"No. Sir."

"Now we have to deal with the aftermath of your fumble. Get the squad into the briefing room, immediately. Can you do that?"

She nodded mutely. If their entire discourse had been a slap in the face, her cheek would surely be red by now.

…

The Captain stood at the front to address them; "after speaking with Chief Richards regarding the events that transcended last night we have come to a decision to form a task force to eliminate the menace who calls himself 'Daredevil'."

Riley's mouth dropped open. She tried to meet Alfie's eyes but he like everyone else was engrossed in the Captain's speech, not a sole naysayer was present in the room but her.

"So he wears a mask he thinks he can do anything" "unsolved murders lie in his footsteps, three months and still no one knows who shot our friends": a gist of the murmurs of agreement that passed between her colleagues.

Humphrey gave out orders, and assigned Alfie to head the task force, which explained his distant approach this morning. Every other detective on their own cases and task forces would simultaneously report to him.

It was all hands on deck to catch Daredevil.

And Riley was the only person who believed he was innocent.

* * *

 **Woohoo! I know, long chapter but I just had to get this down and posted. Please review and tell me what you think! Should I continue? :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to those who followed and favourited. I was not expecting the kind of feedback.**

 **Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

"Alfie," she sternly hushed. He either didn't hear her or chose to ignore her as he left through the doors. Riley felt the eyes of every officer skate over her skin as she followed him.

"Alfie!" She shouted over the din of the front lobby. Catching up to him, she grabbed his shoulder and rounded on him. "You knew about this?"

"You were going to find out eventually," he had the remote harshness from before. He straightened and flicked her hand off his shoulder. "Like the rest."

A hundred things had gone wrong for her in such a short span of time. This friendship was not another aspect of her life she would allow to fall apart. "That's not what I mean. None of you are listening to me!"

"The hell?" The outburst gained them a few long glances from patrol officers passing by. "You're defending the bastard?"

"He didn't kill those men," she reiterated firmly. It was damn hard to defend the innocence of a masked stranger. But she did.

He shook his head. "You don't know that."

She repeated the same report she gave the Captain, but Alfie had made his decision months ago when it came to Daredevil. She thought she had too, until last night. "You were the only witness," he said. "It's your word against his."

It was infuriating how unreasonable he was being; lumping her with that vigilante. Aflie was a great detective, but he was letting his personal feelings cloud his judgement. "Alf, why would _I_ lie to you? So _maybe_ he circled back to kill them, we don't know." She lowered her voice; "don't you think this seems a little fishy to you?"

Nothing had changed on the surface at the precinct. Lawyers mingled by the booking desk, the same people, were doing the same jobs at the same places. Yet she stared at them with uneasiness she had become increasingly used too.

"It's over, Riley. They got the traitors," he growled in frustration at her paranoia. "There's no one left to arrest!"

She pulled him into a corner, in her mind her suspicions were perfectly rational. "Task forces are expensive and time consuming; you know that, we've been in a ton of them together. Why would the Chief pour this kind of money into something like this based on a 'maybe'?"

"For God's sake, Riles! The asshole shot you in the chest!" He chewed out with sudden vehemence. But she knew they were both thinking of the same person the next second. "He killed Amy!" Grief tugged at a heart string. They didn't speak. Alfie heaved a breath, and rested a hand on his hip, the other rubbing his eyelids.

It happened so fast she didn't even remember blinking. One moment she and Amy had taken position in front of the abandoned warehouse, responding to a dispatch call like hundreds of other nights. They were both alive. The next moment she had a bullet in her. When she woke up two weeks later; Amy Valentin was dead, the flowers on her gravestone wilting.

"We don't know that." But even she doubted herself. She didn't know what to believe anymore; what she saw with her own eyes or what had to be done in the name of the law. "What if it was someone else? We've been blaming the masked man for months because we have _no one_ else."

"We've been through the evidence. And we have to consider him as a suspect." And by 'been through' he meant they obsessively complied it (even after the Lieutenant harangued her to return to the hospital, they worked the case from her bedside until she was cleared).

They hunted for known associates of Fisk while her arm was still in a sling. They met with bitter dead end after dead end and could barely hold onto restraint whilst interrogating their former co-workers-some she had known since the academy but had become corrupt beyond recognition.

"Talk to Hoffman again if you think that'll help."

"I'm not keen on paying a visit to Hoffman that doesn't involve me beating him into an early grave," she gritted out. He murdered his partner. His friend. _Unforgiveable._ "Besides he won't give me anything worth a damn."

"You could ask his lawyers," Alfonso suggested. She glanced at Nelson and Murdock, speaking to Officer McDavis. She could not come to a conclusion on those two either, their professions alone were enough to make them repelling. "Whoever shot them was an expert marksman," he continued. "A mercenary, that's what we concluded."

"Then we didn't _solve_ anything. Look, I was shot. Two of the thugs last night were hit with silenced guns, the other two had their necks broken. But Daredevil doesn't use firearms."

"He might've when he was on Fisk's leash."

"So we're going back on those two being connected?" She argued. "You know what? I need to talk to Fisk, face to face."

"Even if you did, he'd just lie to you, or demand his lawyer be present. Besides, you know that's impossible with the Feds swarming him." That was true; there were rumors they were moving him from Ryker's to a federal prison upstate. Ryker's Island was in the list of the top ten worst prisons in the U.S. _That'_ _s where he belongs. Where he should be rotting._ And she didn't care if she was going to hell for thinking that.

"I don't want to fight with you, Alfie."

Remembering his sister Amy, had calmed him enough to not lash out at her. "Say we don't know who shot you or killed those men," which meant Daredevil was not off the hook. "What about Sullivan huh? Sully was patrolling the perimeter, doing his _job_ , till the masked man tied him to a pole and shoved a knife through his neck."

Another blow. Another loss. She had known Sully since his first day at the academy. She trained him. He was diligent, eager to please like every rookie during probation. He had so much to learn, so much to give. And he was honest. She knew that.

"You don't have to remind me."

"I think I do. Believe what you want too Riles, but I have to do my job." She knew that too. "He has to be held accountable for his actions, just like everyone else, whether he likes it or not." And even if the vigilante was innocent of those murders, he was right. The law should not exclude masked heroes, and in recent events the world was starting to open it's eyes to dangers and the damages they were capable of.

"How many more of us will die, because of him if we don't catch him?" He asked, wearing a severe expression, his tone low and hushed and laced with warning. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to bury any more of my friends."

And that was when Riley knew she was on her own in this.

...

He heard every single word—from Captain Humphrey's remonstrations, to the briefing room meeting, and lastly the strained conversation with her friend. Matt had been concentrating with every ounce of brain power that Foggy calling his name brushed off his ears like white noise.

"Matt? Matty?"

She sighed in exhaustion. His breath hitched when he felt her eyes tattoo his neck. _Does she know?_

She lingered in place, then walked off.

"We have to go." He tugged on Foggy's arm with a bit more force than required.

Foggy's feet were planted making it obvious that Matt was dragging him somewhere. The wizened desk sergeant hung her arms over the edge of the wood; "leaving already, boys? Don't you want to see—"

"I just remembered we have an urgent matter to attend too," he flashed a charming smile to undercut the abruptness.

"What urgent—"

"See you later McDavis, sorry for wasting your time," he told her over Foggy's continued questions.

She shrugged and waved goodbye. "Alright, sugar. Don't be a stranger now."

Finally Foggy's feet stopped being stuck and they strode towards the exit. Matt's heartbeat was steadily rising in pace. The whole world converged on him in that moment; the body odour of the criminals locked in the holding cells, the noxious scent of gunpowder, barking dogs hounding a rat in the alley, police siren four blocks away, and chatter; waves, and waves of chatter from every direction imaginable colliding into him like a tsunami.

And then Foggy being Foggy, as Matt practically led him rather than the other way around, down the grey stone steps of the station; "Did you hear that? Okay, I'm asking the wrong person that question. But McDavis was totally hitting on you, and she's like sixty! I think that's a new record buddy—"

"Foggy," he cut sharply. "Not now." Everything rebalanced itself as he drove the tidal wave back into the ocean.

…

Foggy's shoulders fell, mother-hen instincts setting in as he read the distress in Matt's demeanor. "What's going on?"

Though outwardly it looked like Foggy was leading him- Matt was actually walking faster, edging them towards the curb. It was strange. He had gotten used to be being Matt's eyes when they walked together, but after finding out his secret he had had to re-learn somethings about their friendship.

"A trafficking ring Daredevil busted last night."

Foggy preferred to keep the mention of this 'other' person in Matt and his lives to an absolute minimum during daylight hours. "Still not encouraging it. But go on." His tone was passive and flat. He liked to believe that by dissuading him and harking him that he was not an advocate- he might eventually stop Matt from putting on the suit and actively trying to get himself killed by ninjas.

Not like it ever worked. Or would.

"Four guys. They're dead. They think I did it." The broken sentences he rambled off made Foggy more confused.

He gently laid a hand on Matt's chest, they stopped at the corner of the precinct. "As much as I don't like hearing about your extra-curricular activities you're gonna have to bring me up to speed."

Matt inhaled deeply, then shot off with a retelling of the previous night and the conversations within the station.

He waited until the end to ask questions. And boy, he had a lot, because succinctly put; they were in a ton of shit. "To sum it up; Detective Knight is the only person in there who knows you didn't kill them, the only person who could stop this mini army that's out to collar your ass."

Matt sighed and admitted it with a bleak nod, "Pretty much."

"We should talk to Brett."

"No, we shouldn't."

He held his hands out, shoulders rising. "We could at least find out if she's trustworthy or not."

Matt placed his hands on his hips, pacing like he did when he was agitated during finals or God forbid when he was having girl trouble. He rubbed his mouth, considering it.

"It won't matter," he decided. "She thinks the masked man shot her. She has her doubts about me but she doesn't agree with what Daredevil is."

Foggy kneaded his forehead, "ugh my brain hurts, I hate it when you refer to yourself in third person. I'll never get used to it."

"There's nothing either of them can do to stop it. The orders came from higher up."

"You do realize that 'catch you'; they mean they want to figure out your identity, Matt." His Hail Mary was that he was legally blind. But still, they had to be cautious. "If both of us are arrested then we definitely can't defend each other out of jail."

After living together for so long they had developed roommate telepathy when it came to certain issues. The silence extended between them until Matt finally pointed out the obvious;

"I have to talk to her."

"Oh, great idea." He drawled out sarcastically. In typical Matt fashion he still had the worst judgement when it came to beautiful women, even ones who despised him. "Just give me a sec to figure out which version of you you're going to be when you have your chat with Detective Knight." Matt winced with a familiar look of guilt. Foggy weighed the options in both hands; "As Matthew Murdock the lawyer she hates, or Daredevil the vigilante she _really_ hates?" He said it all in a shouted whisper in a single breath.

He was blank-faced. "I'm well aware of the risks, Foggy."

"So what?" Foggy dropped his hands to slap on his sides. "You're going to pay her a visit in your Halloween costume?"

"I need someone who's close to the task force, who's in on the action. With her help I could find who really killed those men and pinned it on me. She can clear Daredevil."

"It sucks when all your witnesses are dead and the only live one is a cop." He deadpanned. "You either make yourself even more of an enemy to her, or she becomes your ally."

Matt chewed his bottom lip. "She'll need some convincing."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, leaning on the brick wall in resignation and cold foreboding at the rest of the afternoon and the entire night, that would be spent tossing and turning in his bed, worried sick about Matt.

"Since I know it would be futile of me to stop you from going out there. What are you going to do in the mean time? Every uniform in Hell's Kitchen is out to get you."

Matt sighed and leaned next to him against the wall. "Avoid them and try not to piss them off?" He offered.

Foggy arched an eyebrow; "And how long do you think that'll last?"

…

Heroes don't get any rewards in the real world. It's not like she expected a medal of honour. But instead she gets her boss second-guessing her motives; her colleagues whispering that she purposefully let Daredevil go, and the case of the missing girls _she found_ , reassigned to an untrustworthy SOB.

Worst of all, Alfie was disappointed in her. And Amy wasn't there to tell him to get off his high horse, or help them reconcile over bad street meat and beers at McCalwaine's.

Riley was dismissed for the rest of the day. She went home and had a fitful sleep with the curtains drawn over the insensitive sunlight. By midnight she was back at work for the graveyard shift. She discovered her patrol partner was none other than Frank Sinjon. They both emitted low groans when they checked the duty roster.

"You're driving?" He scoffed when she opened the driver side door of the squad car.

"You got a problem with that, Sinjon?"

He answered her with a glare and got in. _12pm to 8am._ It was going to be long night.

They drove through a Hell's Kitchen neighborhood where violent gang activity was concentrated. "I can feel their hate," she remarked when they drove past a group of youths milling about a darkened shop corner lot. Several of them showed her the middle finger and made obscene gestures with their crotches. Nothing she wasn't used to by now.

"It's natural," shrugged Frank. "All gangbangers hate cops, we hate them too. A few less of 'em would do the society good." You couldn't be police officer without gaining cynicism as a personality trait after several years on the force.

 _Yeah a few gangbangers dropping dead will fix everything wrong in Hell's Kitchen._ "Well. It's shouldn't be like that."

Frank rolled his eyes. She watched him in the rearview mirror, still pissed that her case was given to him. It was her hardwork he was going to take credit for, she couldn't help it if she wanted it done right.

"Don't mess up the case, Frank, with those girls."

He frowned at her, gritting his teeth; "I won't."

Finally they got a call from dispatch reporting gunfire five blocks away, she turned on the siren.

On the scene they grew their guns. She took the lead and they scouted the alley. After a minute she found the source;

A black kid, no older than 15, probably less- flopped against the dumpster, a dark stain blooming on his belly.

…

Knowing that he needed to limit his interaction with the police-Matt as Daredevil, kept himself hidden behind a clothes line that extended between the two buildings. Detective Knight and another officer ran in the slim alleyway below him. He let her have this one.

…

"What happened?" Riley lowered her gun as she approached him. He shuddered and out of nowhere drew his pistol on her with a defiant look. The moment it was in her face, she never flinched or batted an eyelash, challenging him to try. She gave him a hard, unyielding stare. After a wince of pain he tossed it and grunted; "help me...please."

Frank caught up to her, "there's another one here. They shot each other." She turned and looked at where his flashlight pointed. Another dead teenager, lying on a pile of garbage bags, body still warm.

Riley bent and probed the stomach of the one in front of her, examining it with expertise. There would be time to get his statement from him if he survived. His breaths were getting shorter, wetter. "Gunshot wound; looks like a hollow point. Call an ambulance."

But Frank didn't do that. "Are you kidding me?" He asked, incredulous, like her order was completely insane. That very question sparked rage inside her. She recalled the words of a certain blind lawyer and how society had lost their faith in their police force, mainly because of officer's like Sinjon. She squashed her personal feelings and ignored the dickhead standing behind her.

Carefully, she eased the kid's jacket off and used it to apply pressure on the wound. "What's your name?" She asked and not unkindly.

"W-Wes."

"Something went down here just now, didn't it?" She titled her head to the dead body ten feet behind her, never taking her gaze off him. He nodded weakly.

"The fuck is this, Knight?" Sinjon demanded furiously, his feet scraping the ground impatiently, still being useless to her. "Ambulance or not; it won't make a difference anyway."

The kid's dark eyes flew around in abject terror and he loosened his hold on his stomach, more blood bloomed on his shirt. Having been on the verge of death before, she could sympathize with him. No one wanted to die abandoned and alone.

"Press as hard as you can," she instructed. Riley cupped his hands and folded them on the bleeding hole. He obeyed even though it must have taken a toll to do so. Not expecting any help from Frank, Riley gathered him into her arms and lifted him off the ground.

"Are you kidding me?!" Frank barked, still holding his gun, even though there was absolutely no threat to dissolve. "They _meant_ to kill each other," he hissed waving his weapon at the one lying on the ground.

In Frank's mind, come tomorrow morning, Wes would just be another dead gangbanger in an area known for its gun violence.

But she still had to live with herself.

She bore the kid's weight and spun to Frank trying earnestly not to yell at him but maintain cool focus; "We have our differences, but I know you don't want to stand there and watch this kid die either."

His face pinched with spite; "That's what he'd do if it were you or me."

The argument was futile. Glaring daggers, she shouldered past him and hurried to the police car. She sat in the back seat with Wes' head rested on her lap. Riley growled for Frank to step on the accelerator or deal with her later.

"You're…you're some kind of lady cop?" Gasped Wes as she pressed on his wound, his blood was warm and sticky beneath her fingers.

"Yeah."

"This your first time in the backseat?" He wanted to know, staring up at her.

Talking seemed to calm him; "No, it isn't. I've had my share of teenage rebellion. My parents weren't very strict." That was an extremely summarized PG-13 version of it really. "They hated cops," she smiled.

"But... you're a cop," he whispered with innocent wonder.

"Yeah, I am."

...

She washed Wes' blood off her hands and spent the next few hours in the waiting room at Metro General Hospital. Frank and Riley didn't talk, but she didn't mind. He sat and stewed in resentment at her for dragging him there. She wasn't shocked by his behaviour. The bar for the quality of police officers had been set very, very low for her after Fisk.

The nurses reported that Wes was stabilized, vitals were good, but he was asleep under heavy pain killers. He would be safe at the hospital, they stood to leave and finish the rest of their shift.

Frank spun to her, scowling; "We're going to have a court case on our hands if he makes it."

"I know Frank," she deadpanned.

He stabbed a finger in her face, "If he lives and ends up killing someone else. Say, a cop. That's on you, Knight."

She glowered at him but she didn't want to feed the fire. Riley knew in her bones that she had made the right call. She simply nodded and they didn't mention it for the rest of the night. They were going to have to charge him for the murder of the other teen, it may have been self-defense but his fate was no longer in her hands.

...

By the following evening, there was no time to visit Wes. She had to organize a tactical team for a drug raid at an underground party.

Three months ago, three dozen blind illegal immigrants from China were found in an abandoned AC factory, manufacturing heroin. Despite the operation being shut down, last month they brought in a low level dealer. Drug test kits revealed he was distributing the same junk as the Chinese. It was highly possible the manufacturing had restarted. Immigration and the DEA were invested in the case, which meant she could not mess up.

Even without the heroin, a wave of drugs flooded into Hell's Kitchen and widened the radius druggies normally got their scores in, that was a pressing concern she had to address too. The narco's at this party would not be limited to heroin. Other Schedule One drugs were expected such as MDMA and LSD. This could be good for her reputation if it all went smoothly. And she needed a win for her self-esteem and her job.

The teams got into position at the entrances of the decrepit brownstone, another property ruined by the Battle of New York. Graffiti accumulated on its walls, and most of the upstairs windows were busted or boarded up with rotten planks.

On her count she kicked the door down. "Go. Go!" A river of uniforms flowed past her into the basement, which birthed clouds of smoke and blasts of techno music. The setting was like walking through an old memory for her. From the neon lights that captured the essence of smoke in their slants, the stuffiness of bodies pressed against each other in the summer night, to the cups, glass and unfinished cigarette butts littered on the floor.

The dreamy escapism, the rebellion, the sin. All too familiar wants and needs to a younger Riley Knight.

"NYPD! This is a raid!" She yelled over the cacophony, the loudest in the basement.

She strode to a group of three on a ripped couch. Holstering her gun she hauled them to their feet. From their rancid breaths; they were either too high or too drunk to move their limbs on their own. They protested like sleepy babies as she shoved them with enough firmness into standing.

"Line them up in the front hall," she ordered. They cut the lights and the deafening, obnoxious EDM. The fact that the music choice annoyed the crap out of her was an indication she was too old to be at one of these things out of her own volition—unless she was hiding a badge and gun beneath a disguise.

"Search them." They got the disgruntled men and women in order. Most were below 25, but there were a few older folks scattered among the younger generation. She signaled to three officers behind her; "Sinjon, Croftsky, Leo; do a perimeter search."

She directed her authority to the crowd. They blinked dumbly at the harsh light. "When the officer approaches you; turn around and put your hands on the wall. Do not attempt to resist."

Riley went forward to a teenager around 18 years old and made a gesture with her index indicating to turn. Her skimpy outfit was almost worth a month of her paycheck. She was too rich to be in this neighborhood. Mum and dad probably had no clue where she was. She pouted petulantly and then fired in indignation, "don't you fucking dare touch me you bitch-"

She refrained from rolling her eyes and started to grab her arms. "Alright, princess. Hands on the wall, c'mon."

After she searched her and found a baggie of MDMA in her bra, she ignored the girl's pleas to let her go, which quickly-and unsurprisingly-became threats to sue. She tossed the pills to Alfie to catalogue.

Riley radioed the three she sent on perimeter search. "Croftsky, Sinjon, 10-101." She waited but got nothing but static. Her legs were already moving to the stairs. "Croftsky—Sinjon?" She jogged and tried the other channel. "Leo?" Static.

"Shit." She broke into a run taking two steps at a time up the stairs.

…

His nose was assaulted with foul, toxic odors. He stalked to the drug user sitting in a rotten chair termites had been at. There were so many particles of drugs floating in the air. He was glad his armor could protect his hyper-sensitized skin from them. _Sulphur, hydrogen chloride, tar._ The effects of dopamine and serotonin were fading in the crowd two levels below his feet. Being here only intensified his hatred for drugs, recreational and medicinal.

He loomed over the man in the chair, a dealer he had been tracking for a week now. Connected to the Chinese heroin he thought disappeared when Fisk was arrested. Matt had almost given up on humanity then, and he didn't want any more lost souls to be forced into slavery, their eyesight stolen. It was personal now.

The man whimpered, his breath stank, teeth stained by tobacco. "It's..it's you. Oh God." He sputtered.

Matt fisted his collar, drawing him close to the devil's snarl; "Who is your supplier?"

He could hear the chemicals burning through the dealer's veins, its claws caging over his heart like a prison—an opioid, but laced with something else. He wasn't an expert on drugs. He could pick out their components occasionally, but most times they were a blur of warring chemicals that gave him a migraine when he tried to distinguish them. The dealer was petrified, muttering meaningless things.

"Three kids have OD'd on bad dope. You're going to tell me who gave it to you, or else!"

He cried out, "I…I had to purify her-"

The man scratched the arms of the chair, it was like a wood chipper to Matt. Scratching, and scratching, until Matt tasted the copper when he turned his own nails to splinters. But his nerves were numb to the pain. His veins were collapsing like cinderblocks, core temperature boiled his blood, and his breathing was shallow.

That was when he tried to figure out what was actually wrong with him.

"Purity her…just once…" he squalled.

The syringe puncture was in the vein of his right arm, except he was right handed. _He didn't inject himself_. He released his collar and checked his arms, _ligature marks._ They tied him here, interrogated him, drugged him and left him to die in a fever dream. _Do at a party; no one would suspect he was murdered, just overdosed._ Matt listened to the world outside. Whoever had done this was long gone and they got what they wanted out of him.

His breathing was getting thinner. Matt was too late to stop the effects of the opioid, and the police were swarming upstairs now. He could hear three, kicking down the doors.

"Give me a name." Matt tried not to hit him, he needed him to focus.

He cried out in terror, his bladder clenched and unclenched, he pissed himself. "I—I—"

Matt scoffed and scrunched his nose. "You're dying. Do you understand? Just give me a name and I can get you help." He had to lie. "Who is your supplier?" His eyeballs were starting to roll in their sockets, blood left his extremities, he was losing him. He thought back to the dockyards, the murders he was being framed for.

With fury, he grabbed him again, "Who did this to you! Tell me something! Anything!"

The door crashed down. "Police!"

They held him at gun point. Daredevil's masked features met the circle of light from their flashlight; he was still leaning over the dying druggie. "He's—"

"Get on the ground!" The one leading the group ordered.

Matt obeyed before they started shooting. He slowly sunk to his knees.

Another cop checked on the dealer in the chair from the back to sidestep Daredevil. "He's dead."

Matt couldn't help it; "I told you," he hissed.

The officers heartbeats skipped, and the guns jerked again; "Who the fuck said you could talk?" They crowded into the room, closer. _'How long do you think that'll last?' One night, Foggy. It lasted one night._

The leader's commands wavered between fear and conviction. They were afraid of him, but he was certain the bounty on him was to find him dead or alive, they wouldn't hesitate this time. The leader nudged his chin to the one beside the dead dealer. "Sinjon, cuff him."

Sinjon had the unfortunate advantage of being the closest to Daredevil. Matt remembered him from last night, how he wanted to leave a child to die on the street. He whipped his gaze to the leader and swallowed.

"Croftsky—"

"Just- just do it!"

Matt inwardly groaned _what a fucking waste of my time_. Sinjon found his balls wherever he had left them and walked with trepidation to handcuff Daredevil.

His smelt the cigarettes on his breath as he neared. There was a change in their breathing as they started to relax once the cuffs were locked.

"Hey can I tell you something?" He whispered to Sinjon behind him.

"What did I fucking tell you about—"

But Sinjon's head moved an inch to close to his. Matt head-butted him, ducked his head forward and lunged to the chair. Bullets rained. Six shots were fired between them. Two went into the dead man.

He jumped off the wall, dived down to kick Sinjon in the jugular before he could stand. Rolled and did a back flip to disarm Croftsky, simultaneously getting his wrists in front of him. Matt balled his hands and swung a hit into Croftsky's nose.

He got his knees around his neck, spinning him and falling onto his back. The seventh bullet went into Croftsky's vest from the third cop. He could hear the pops of vessels bursting open in Croftsky's back. Deep down, he hoped he did not critically harm him.

He flattened himself and kicked his legs up into standing. _One more to go._

…

Riley ran towards the sound of gunfire.

…

He put his arms beneath the last cop and rolled him over to get to the keys in his front pocket. Skid marks were made on the ground as someone else came. _F_ _e_ _male, 5'6, newly knitted bone in her right collarbone, no perfume…_

As he reached for the belt, the scuffing stopped, a bullet lodged into a barrel a few feet above his head.

"Don't. Move."

He cursed at the untimeliness. Either he got the keys or he was going to have to go home handcuffed. _You're in a bind now, aren't you?_ The exact pun Foggy would make if he was here.

She saw what he was attempting. "Get up. Take three steps back." Matt recognized the cadence of her voice. _Riley Knight._

"So you finally caught me huh detective," he threw her a boyish smile. The gun rose higher, despite the ache that bloomed in her right shoulder. The flesh wound in his right arm reminded him what a good shot she was.

"Do it!" Unlike her fellow detectives there was no quaver in her command. He followed her instructions, simultaneously soaking up the room into his mind's eye to determine an escape route. _Window parallel to her shoulder, the glass is cracked, wind rustling through a jagged gap, won't be difficult to break the rest. If I can just get past her…_

"You should let me go." From the tightness of her palms around the grip, and how her mouth curled at his recommendation she had low tolerance for him too. Her ponytail swished in the air as she shook her head.

She noted that his cuffed hands were in front of him. Her peripherals calculated the rest of the scene, three officers down, and one unmoving man in a chair in the corner. She watched his movements, examining the buckles in his suit, how the fabric sculpted his body.

A mocking chuckle spilled from her lips; "Halloween isn't for another 3 months, asshole."

Matt laughed low. He angled his foot 45 degrees to the window. Her heart raced. He cocked his head to left, as if to invite her;

"Shall we?"

He launched his foot against the wall to dodge the bullet. He spun, foot first and broke through the glass. He heard her swear as he ran along the ledge. She cut her left palm on the broken shards as she climbed out after him.

He went to the end. The corner of the building dug into his back and there was nothing but air and sky everywhere else. Still handcuffed, he shifted his weight slightly to face her, as if to tell her something. He dangled his foot off the ledge, and then to her horror, dived into the abyss.

…

She blinked at the spot on the ledge he had just ejected himself off. Riley jogged to the edge; blocking the part of her brain that was hyper-aware she could fall and break her neck at any moment. She saw him fleeing across the roof of the opposite building slightly lower than the one she stood on, still in one piece.

Riley took a running start and bolted after him.

…

She wasn't half bad. A little unstable on the landing, but she stuck it.

Matt vaulted over the roof retaining wall and onto the fire escape. His wrists were constricted, the metal of the cuffs digging into his carpals. But he managed. He clung to the outer railing with his bound hands and dropped down level by level. Four stories above ground he twisted and propelled himself to the opposite fire escape, Riley was using the stairs to get down to his floor. He scrambled up onto the boxed out balcony.

He thought she would stop there. See that it was impossible for her to make the jump. But she didn't. He didn't think he had ever crossed a cop who was this persistent.

…

As it happened, she knew it was a bad idea.

Her hand missed the bar and for a terrifying moment she was weightless–

Two hands snatched her wrist and pulled her up. Her knee pushed off the hand rail, a barrage of expletives firing in her head. She clambered over. He released her. In her haste to put as much space between herself and the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, Riley tripped on the iron grating. She fell against Daredevil's chest.

She took one look into that red mask and the horns and shoved him away, putting her weight behind the thrust. He didn't stumble like she wanted him too, just retreated with upraised palms to the other side of cramped landing. He stayed beneath the staircase, striped patterns formed by shadow of the stairs against the blood red of his suit. She only saw half his mouth.

"Are you done now or are you going to shoot me?"

Her gun was in its holster, but she didn't trust herself to fire it or to try any hand to hand combat. Riley's head was still whirling; she doubled over, body rattling like a leaf. Unwanted memories flashed before her; the metallic smell of blood, hot against her skin, blue and red lights flashing, Amy….

"You're still handcuffed," she gasped in the middle of the mini-panic attack she was having.

"Am I?" He showed her his unbound wrists, the cuffs hanging on his thumb. He tossed them onto the ground. Riley patted her pockets for the keys and found they were empty.

The bastard saved her life and then frisked her.

"You keep trying to follow me like that. You'll die," he reproached bitterly.

"I wasn't going to let you go, was I?" Her rebuttal didn't sound that callous out loud.

"What do you have against me, detective?" The shadows shifted as he moved a step closer to her.

She went backwards but ran out of fire escape to rear into. Was this conversation really happening? Maybe this was a symptom of her PTSD, maybe she was flabbergasted at why he was still standing before her when he was free to evade her as he pleased, maybe she just wanted some answers.

Despite the fear tightening her throat, and the chill in her spine, she spilled the truth, the only thing that came to her mind; "The night the Russians were wiped out. You—you tied an officer to a post and stabbed him in the neck."

His mouth twisted into a grim red line, tension and anger rippling beneath his muscles, tugging at his restraint. "I didn't stab him. It was a dirty cop like the others, you know that detective."

She found some courage, willing herself to look into his eyes or where they were beneath the mask. "And I'm supposed to take your word for it?"

"I'm not a killer," his tone growling with the essence of simmering fury, baring his teeth, which looked stark white against the red of his mask and the smattering of stubble on his chin.

She let out a shaky breath, her mouth dry as sandpaper. "The news says otherwise. And the evidence." _Oh my God, stop talking Riley, before regrets saving you._

"They don't know the story," he clenched his jaw, he drew closer until he was almost at arm's length. Her heart raced, the railing dug into her back. "You're not asking the right questions, detective, and you're going after the wrong person. You know I didn't kill those men." She could hear his resentment, his exasperation at being pinned as the villain.

He was not the first criminal she had faced down, but certainly the first she had a conversation with that did not end with a recitation of the Miranda Rights. So he wears a mask, so he's got mad ninja kung-fu skills, _he's just a man. Men can bleed. Men can die._

"You think you can get away with anything and hide behind that mask. But people have died because of you," she glared at him, balling her fists, pushing through the fear.

She leaned forward until their faces were less than a foot apart. "And you don't even know their names, they're just collateral damage."

The silence between them was deafening. She could see the broad expanse of his chest breathing in and out, the stiffness in his strong muscular arms. Her blood surged through her ears. She thought she misheard him.

"Sullivan. His name was Sullivan."

She didn't know how to respond to that. His locked jaw untightened and he stepped away from her. "I'm aware of the task force, Detective Knight," his voice was clear, even, reasonable. "You and I both know it shouldn't exist."

"And how do you know what I think?" But he didn't grant her an answer.

Daredevil mantled himself onto the railing, perching his feet on the slim bar merely two inches wide. He made it look like he was sitting on a couch. He held onto the ladder with his left and balanced his crouched position with his right, his profile backlit by the street light.

"We are not enemies. The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can find the real danger to our city."

Suddenly she felt a stinging in her left palm, there was a bleeding cut in it. When she looked up he was gone.

* * *

 **A/N: my story deals with the aftermath of Fisk's demise. But I don't want to involve him directly in any way other than a few mentions. It's called Murdock & Knight after all, and their relationship as they battle various criminals will be the main focus. See you next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

At noon the next day Riley assembled the tactical team for debrief. The very first task on her list was to scold Croftsky, Leo and Sinjon for their haphazard arrest of Daredevil. She would be lying if she said she didn't milk a teensy bit of enjoyment out of telling off three grown men;

"You had him! You had him handcuffed right there in front of you, at gunpoint. What? Did you need him gift-wrapped with a giant red bow too?" Riley paced the length of the table they sat at, a collection of fractured ribs, broken noses, and purple bruises between them. "And what blows it all? Sinjon; leaning in too close to the vigilante because he wanted to 'tell you something', well I hope whatever juicy gossip you exchanged was worth it because our perp's in the wind again."

Those three would have to live with the embarrassment, swallow a few snarky jibes and hoots of teasing laughter, but she was their leader and their fault was hers to bear. She nearly fell to her death pursuing Daredevil on foot because of their mistake.

And worst; now she owed him for saving her life.

It didn't take long for word to circulate that Daredevil murdered the drug addict they found on the second floor. He was ID'd as Vern Woodrugh, one of Amy's former informants, a low level dealer who used to push for the Russians. The M.E. found high levels of heroin laced with PCP in his system, which explained the bloody fingernails. PCP was a dangerous substance. If cannabis was a squirt water gun, than PCP was an HK416 Assault Rifle.

This emboldened Captain Humphrey to press for Alfonso to step up his game plan to capture Daredevil. They were now accepting tips from the public to track sightings of the red-costumed hero.

The drug raid overall was a success. And new informants were gained in the process.

The next open case to tackle was Wes Cleon— the kid she found in the alley two nights ago. Wes definitely shot the other teenager, Jaymichael. The shoot-out was the consequence of a schism in the gang over missing drugs. For initiation, Wes was sent to confront him.

Next thing he knew Jaymichael had a gun on him, but Wes fired first. He brought a weapon anticipating the meet would end badly. There were no witnesses to credit him, and out of fear and intimidation Wes was tight-lipped about the details of his superiors who put him up to the task. _The best chance he has is to make a deal, but he won't break. It's like he prefers going to prison to going home._

Riley found herself in the waiting room at the hospital by late afternoon. The sun burnt out the last of its embers setting a dusky glow on the blue vinyl chairs and winked lights off the windowpane.

For the past three months, sleep never came easy for her. It had become mechanical not natural. _Step one; crack your knuckles, step two; scratch that itch, step three; breathe in and out ten times, step four; find a position that favors your left_. She followed the steps.

But as soon as her eyelids shuttered close the nightmare began.

In the darkness clouding her eyes she could see shadows with familiar faces; her sneering mother who drank too much, stern scowling Sister Margaret from Catholic school, Amy brave and strong and big-hearted as she'd been in life.

The grey revenants changed all the time, but they were always vengeful, blaming her for the ill in their lives. She always tasted blood, fresh and metallic. Then a phantom hand would paw its pinchers into her chest, shatter her ribcage, and wrench at the trunks of her nerves like electric cords. Somewhere in the pit of her subconscious she felt a real hand shake her shoulder.

 _"Detective…"_ they echoed.

Riley jolted awake with a gasp. Scalding hot liquid jostled onto her left palm where the cut was and seeped through the bandage. She hissed, shaking off the droplets.

Mrs. Gale Faraday was standing over her, the cup of coffee she had kindly purchased for the detective emptied on half her skirt. Yet her only concern was Riley.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You alright, hun?"

"Crap, crap, crap, I'm sorry. That was on me." She gratefully accepted the tissues Faraday handed. "I must have nodded off." _For about twenty minutes_ , she checked on the wall clock. Another failed attempt to sleep. She decided to try and function without it for another day.

"This coffee was meant to be yours until you tried to karate chop me when I touched you." Riley and the Chief of Nursing had built a camaraderie over the years since she graduated from the academy. She had helped her out of a bind more than once in the past. Next to Alfonso, she was one of her closest friends.

"Sorry for ruining your outfit, Gale. I'll pay for the dry cleaning bill."

Gale swatted the offer aside, "Don't worry about it; I've had worse things spilled on me around here." Her frown creased with concern and she sunk into the seat beside her. "Sounded like you were having a nightmare."

Riley mustered a smile; "I'm fine," yet she made the mistake of averting her eyes. _For someone who makes liars admit their deepest darkest secrets for a living, I'm pretty shit at lying myself._

Faraday was too smart to be fooled by a flippant 'I'm fine'. "When did you start having trouble sleeping?"

She grimaced, "Not you, too." Gale arched a brow because she wasn't having any of it. "Since the accident," Riley admitted.

Gale nodded empathetically, there was naught else to be said but; "I'm sorry." She reached for her bandaged hand. Riley neither accepted it nor rejected it, merely endured it. She didn't know what to do with this kind of affection anymore.

"You should see a doctor." Gale let go of her; seeing that it did nothing to help. "Get a prescription for something to help you sleep. And I mean really sleep, not these power naps you take in the middle of the day."

"Truth is; I'm not a fan of pills," she said sheepishly. Thankfully Gale presumed it was the unassuming explanation of a phagophobia of tablets and not what it really was.

"And I don't like cops sleeping on the job," she countered. "Or giving me nonsense excuses, you gotta take care of yourself, Knight. You always walk in here looking like you've just survived the apocalypse or something." She gestured to the dishevelled mess of Riley's hair. "When's the last time you injected a little bit of fun into your life?"

She groaned, "oh God. We are not discussing this right now."

"And why not?"

"When have I ever had luck with guys, Gale? I tell them I'm a cop and their brains immediately jump to 'oh shit she's a cop she must be a ball-buster' or worst."

"Worst like kinky sex fantasies start playing in their heads?"

She made an embarrassed noise, because her assumption was spot on, then laughed."Okay, inappropriate. I'm working, please stop over-analysing my life and appearance."

"Please. Get some proper rest."

There was no use arguing here. "Yes m'am. What would I do without you?"

She snorted, "Fall asleep on your gun probably." Riley chuckled heartily as Gale stood, "he'll be awake soon, you should go in now."

In the private ward Riley slipped in to take a seat beside Wes. They didn't handcuff him to the railing as per her request. He was a small kid with gangly limbs, light as a feather when she carried him, who would risk tearing his stitches open if he tried to run.

He creaked open his eyelids as if they weighed a ton. Big dark eyes blinked at her once, twice; "Why you sittin' there and staring? You hot for me or something?" His throat was still hoarse with sleep.

She rolled her eyes. His color was better and it was encouraging to hear that he was well enough to crack jokes. "You're in pretty bad shape so I'm going to let that comment slide."

He shifted on the bed and groaned. "Ain't gonna be good for my rep having a five-o sittin' bedside."

"Well, it's not helping me much either." At the rate she was going she could be fired by the end of the month just for being a humanitarian. A fresh batch of rookies would enter the force soon; Humphrey would have plenty of uniforms on patrol and wouldn't need her anymore.

After a couple of tries to get comfortable on the bed, Wes stared at Riley with that same defiance he wore when he pointed his gun at her; "You think you own me now." It was a statement rather than a question.

Potential informants didn't like the implication of being on a cop's leash. Heck, no one liked being on _anyone's_ leash. She had been waiting for this reaction the moment he woke up. Riley leaned into her seat, "What I did for you I would've done for anybody."

Wes frowned, cagey of her motives, he probably never met a cop who was remotely pleasant with him before. He shifted again and settled with a wince. "I don't think that's true. I'm pretty sure you've got some skeletons in the closet that you're glad you put there."

 _That is true_. She pursed her lips, nodding favorably. "That's very intuitive of you, Wes." Though from the next frown he didn't know what 'intuitive' meant.

It was easier to question minors when you leveled with them. Not try to be their friend but treat them like an equal. Firm yet someone they could relate too, and if you're lucky, respect. "But your 'rep' is the least of your problems. I have to take your statement now." She took out a notepad and pen.

He groaned loudly; "Just when we were settin' the mood. Why do I have to do this again? I already gave a statement to Detective Sinjon."

Sinjon didn't even want the kid to make it through the night and Riley only trusted him as far as she could throw him.

"We have to be thorough."

Wes' Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped nervously. "You-you think I killed him in cold blood?"

Her opinion did not matter, but from the way he fidgeted with his blanket and searched her expression, it mattered to him. Remaining unprejudiced was what she should have done from the get go, it was too late now. Without a yes or no, Riley read out the details on the page in front of her;

"Jaymichael Weathers; you shot him in the alley. I think you should start from the beginning—"

But his attention was drawn elsewhere behind her; "Err…either the morphine's doing things to my head or there's a blind guy at the door?"

Riley spun in her chair. It could only be one person.

Matthew Murdock was halfway across the threshold. He could have barged in if he wanted too, but he opted to be polite. His cane was vertically positioned in one hand, briefcase in the other. In his charcoal suit he perfectly embodied the part of a high-paid attorney; respectable, refined and professional. (Meanwhile she looked like something the cat dragged in.) She knew otherwise, however, regarding the 'high paid' part of his description. (Of course she would research the competition.)

"Detective Knight," he greeted with a curt nod, unsmiling. She stood out of her chair, already on edge.

"Murdock. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see my client."

 _Of course._

She never planned on telling him that she had been wrong about the jewel-store heist. His so-called 'lead' led them to a second cousin of Eli Somner, who was pawning the stolen jewels in Atlantic City. Riley had almost sent an innocent man to prison and she would never have been able to forgive herself for a slip-up like that.

"I get a lawyer?" Wes glanced between them; "Um…do you two know each other?"

"No." She shot with a bit of a bark.

Wes shrunk into his bed and showed his palms in mock surrender, "yikes, someone's cranky."

"My client isn't even aware of his rights to an attorney. I'll be sure to mention that in my opening statement," Murdock clipped in tersely and stepped into the room with a lone tap of his cane. The movement was swift and graceful though to Riley it was like a bulldozer rolling in. "Neither is he in the capacity to be answering direct questions, especially from bodies of authorities who may appear threatening and who seek to charge him for first degree murder."

The kid blinked wide as if someone had slapped him awake; "Charge me for what now?"

Murdock was rapidly unravelling that rapport she established with Wes from the moment she found him bleeding in the alley.

"By law; his parent or guardian should also be present before you begin questioning him," he persisted.

An unpleasant tick of irritation was nibbling on her neck and the sleep deprivation did not help. "If he had family they would be here by now. It's likely they're the ones who put him up to this." Gangs tended to heavily involve family ties.

"Then you should have followed the necessary protocol and waited for a lawyer to be present."

She gently but firmly grabbed his arm and turned him out of the threshold. Mistakenly, she used her bandaged left palm and it stung. They were by the doorframe, out of earshot of Wes.

"Am I on the stand, Murdock? 'Cause it feels like I am."

Around the precinct they said Murdock could be relentless when it came to his rights. Between the two partners he was the most likely to start a confrontation. She was experiencing first-hand what a pain in the ass he could be if provoked. Had she done something to irritate him and make him butt into her affairs as payback? He was the one who won the jewel-heist case, not her. She should be the sullen one not him. And they had come to a detente last time she checked.

"He's thirteen, underage; he's very recently experienced a traumatic event—"

"I know. I found him," Riley cut off with a barely concealed growl. "No guardian showed up. There's a dead teenager in the morgue and another one who needs to be prosecuted for his death. And you guys were late."

Wes was staring holes into them and because Murdock couldn't see she tugged his elbow further out into the hallway. It was awkward to have to touch him to get him to move with her whilst having an argument with him.

Murdock argued; "He's barely been awake for 4 hours and you're already trying to end his life by throwing him in jail. Someone should be here to make sure he didn't incriminate himself like you were trying to do."

She held her hands up. "That is _not_ what I was trying to do. Besides, we already got a statement. You're welcome to sit in there and hold his hand, but nothing you do or say is going to save that kid from what's coming for him when he gets out of here."

He plastered that arrogant smirk on; "Let's not jump to conclusions, since Nelson and Murdock are his attorneys."

"He shot him. Point blank range, bullets match the gun."

His response was stony; "of course _that_ would be enough to convince _you_ of someone's guilt. Skip the gritty work, the trial, put him behind bars. Done. But it's not that simple, detective, the world isn't black and white."

That made her snap. He was _belittling_ her, like she was some fucking ignorant simpleton with tunnel vision who only saw the evidence she wanted to see. She made a stabbing motion at his chest; "Don't pretend like you know what it takes to do my job, and _don't_ pretend like you know who I am, or what it was like to find the kid bleeding to death on the ground." _And then coming here the next morning glad that he's alive, but fucking miserable that I have to do my duty and interrogate him._ "You know nothing, you self-righteous pri—" she stopped before she said something she would regret later, or something he would _make_ her regret later. (Like throwing harassment charges at her for example. Bullshit like that. And he was blind too so he would definitely win with sympathy votes.)

He was very quiet. Then he asked; "Why did you choose to save him, instead of leave him like your partner said?"

The mere question threw her so much she had to take a moment to process it. "Maybe because I'm a decent human being. Did that thought not occur to you?"

"Yet you would throw this 13-year old kid in juvie for being coerced into a violent gang he never wanted to be part of, and thus was forced to defend his life in an insane initiation ritual from another teen twice his size? Who drew a gun on him _first_?"He said adamantly, and tilted his head closer to hers; "Maybe you saved him because you hope he doesn't get a life sentence, maybe he doesn't deserve to get punished like that."

A tense silence ensued. It unsettled her that she could not see his eyes. Half the story of any person she interrogated, talked too, interacted with, was in their eyes. She tried to stare deeper through the black orbs of his sunglasses but they only mirrored her reflection. When she did look away, she felt dazed as if she had just roused from a trance.

Matthew Murdock might as well be wearing a mask.

She wearily rubbed her nose bridge. "You know what? I should go." Murdock merely stood there as if he were a statue. "We're going to argue about this in court one day, until then I don't see the point in discussing this with you." She stuffed her notepad and pen into her pockets and took a step from him. "He's all yours."

As she walked away from Wes' ward, she glanced to see if Murdock was still there, she saw his back as he spun into his client's room.

Only when she was in the car park, lifting her motorcycle helmet did it strike her;

" _Why did you choose to save him, instead of leave him like your partner said…?"_

That was not on the police report. Neither she nor Sinjon would ever have written down or mentioned the fact that he wanted to abandon a thirteen year old to bleed to his death. She didn't like the Frank, but she didn't want to tank his career. Wes didn't even know he had a lawyer so he can't have been the one who told him that.

So then how the hell did Murdock know how it went down in the alley?

Unless he was there.

No need to start with why; how in God's name could a blind lawyer stalk her, anyway? It was ludicrous.

It had to be simpler than that.

Something wasn't right at Nelson and Murdock and she intended to find out exactly what that was.

* * *

Before going home she made a pitstop at the 15th. How could she have missed it before? Daredevil bagged Fisk. Hoffman was represented by Nelson and Murdock, the sole witness that was needed to wreck the kingpin. There was a third puzzle piece she didn't have yet. It was speculation at this point, and she wasn't sure what she was speculating either. Riley printed out a few dozen police reports that had anything remotely to do with Daredevil, from victims he's saved, to crime's he's prevented, to criminals he's incapacitated.

She brewed a pot of coffee and downed three cups before spreading a map of Hell's Kitchen over her desk. Next, she got out a black marker and divided the stack into three. She started on the first pile.

On the map, she began marking the location of every sighting of Daredevil or the Devil of Hell's Kitchen as he was previously known as. With each 'X' mark she began building a 2D representation of the masked man's territory. She deduced from the timing and distance between two crimes that he must be traveling on foot. A hacker informant of hers would be able to build an algorithm to trace the trajectory from each crime and find where his base of operations was.

She was so close. A familiar high buzzed through her; the tips of her fingertips brimmed with electricity and it wasn't the caffeine making her heart pound.

That was when she received a call from the hospital.

"Gale, I promise I'll take a catnap later. Are you calling about Wes?"

" _I don't think you'll have time for any sleep tonight. It's not Wes—"_

She almost dropped her phone. Riley screeched at McDavis that she needed to take a half-day for an emergency as she sprinted towards the car park. By the time she reached the counter, she was out of breath.

"Thomas Knight," she panted to the nurse.

A resident with a clipboard passed by; "Ms. Knight? He's in Room 32. I can take you."

"They found him delirious when he ran into heavy traffic, he's lucky he survived," said the resident. "He refused medical help initially, until he became unconscious and we had no choice." He was taking too much of a leisurely pace that she almost scraped his Achilles' heels as she followed. "He has three fractured ribs, a sprained ankle—"

"First things first: I want a toxicology report. If it's heroin I need to know—"

"He's an adult, I can tell you no more than I can tell the police."

Doctors were the worst to interrogate. She titled her head back coolly to point out; "I am the police," and showed him her badge she hid beneath her shirt because she wanted to be off-duty for the time being.

"Oh. The other cops they—"

"What other cops?"

There were two uniforms inside the ward. Riley threw the door open. The officers opened their mouths to tell the intruder to leave until they saw who it was and shut their traps.

"Is my brother under arrest?"

"Oh no," groaned Thomas, lifting his head from the pillow. "No, no, no, no."

"We're not arresting him," answered Officer Michaels. They still looked blindsided. "Detective, we didn't know he was—"

She forced a path between them to get to her baby brother and wrapped a protective hand around the railing. "If he's not under arrest you can get the hell out."

They exchanged an uncertain glance, but after an unremitting stare from her they slunk out. The moment the door clicked shut, her walls came crumbling down. She spun to Tommy, finally looking at her brother.

"Tommy—"

"—I told Gale not to call you," he attempted to roll away sensing the approach of unwanted sisterly affection. But his broken ribs protested and he rolled back with a grimace.

Riley shook her head and pushed back the matted hair from his forehead, like she used too when he had a fever and she was the only one at home to take care of him.

"Like she was going to listen to you." She sat in the visitor's chair.

"T-tell them to get these off me." Tommy tugged at the restraints they put on him. Seeing them on his bony wrists twisted her heart. "I have to leave, Riles. I-I don't want to be here, I gotta go."

They had the same blue eyes, but Tommy's had always been more beautiful than hers. She didn't remember when his had become vacant and hazy. The drugs drained the vitality from them.

"No, you're not going anywhere. I can't just let you go and keep hoping that this won't happen again. I'm going to call for a bed, okay? I can do that." Another stint in rehab. That had to be the answer.

"No I don't want that," he tugged harder, more desperately. "I don't want to go."

"You need help," it was half a plea half a command. _When did he get so skinny?_ She thought.

He craned his head away from her until the neck muscle was taut; "I don't want their help!"

She stood abruptly, "Toms—"

He had tired himself out, so he stopped fighting and glared at her. She could feel the bite of venom in his tone. "Let's hear it. Go on."

"Hear what?"

"Just say it, Riles," he gritted out, pounding his fists onto the mattress. "You—" she began but had to sit down again. She threaded her fingers through her hair, pulling on the roots to feel the microscopic pinpricks of pain on her scalp. _Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results_. Drug addiction seemed to be a perfect dictionary example.

But her brother wasn't insane.

"You told me you were clean," she said flatly. "I thought you were starting over, for real this time. I don't hear from you for months and then I get a call that you're in the hospital because you were in an accident."

They had come full circle to this point with him in deep trouble and/or hospital bed countless times over the nine years since she became a police officer. Maybe she was the insane one for grasping onto hope after every downfall that he would change. But even then as she sat beside him, she kept searching for that place in her heart that wanted to persevere for him.

But every time she did it was almost as painful as getting shot in the chest. Almost.

His lips twisted into a rueful smile. "What can I say? 9 to 5 didn't work for me."

"I need to know." Out of habit she nearly drew her notepad and pen, instead she settled her elbows onto her knees and caged her fingers, maintaining that expressionless veneer of a vice detective. "I have to know Tommy. What did you take? Who gave it to you? Where did this happen?"

He shook his head vehemently. "No, no. I was already interrogated by those two shitheads. I'm not answering anymore questions," he whined. It had been a while since she heard him whine. Though she wished it was not under these circumstances.

"I'm not asking as a cop, I'm asking as your sister."

"Like there's ever a difference," he retorted with sudden force. "You're not getting anything from me. I just want to get outta here, and you can't keep me here."

He had compiled quite a resume. Each misdemeanor was burned into her brain as a reminder of how easily she could fail him. Being a cops little brother, his run in Juvie (the only one she couldn't get him out of) were the four scariest months of her life.

"You're not in the condition to leave, and I'm not letting you out of my sight. They said you ran into traffic, why? What were you running from?" She pressed.

He cringed, tired of discussing the subject. "Just—nothing, okay?"

He had no right to be fed up with her. "No, not 'nothing'. This isn't a game, Tommy," she said with clear exasperation. The last thing she wanted was to use her most patronizing voice on him, but he was being difficult.

"It was a bad trip."

 _The usual explanation._ "Don't tell me you're dealing it, now. Please, I don't want you anywhere near this."

"I'm not," he shot with rising indignation. "Is that all you care about? If I'm selling dope? Afraid you'll have to get one of your boys in blue to arrest me?"

"Of course that's not all I care about," she said slowly, surprised by his tone, though she had half-expected it. "But it's important; I don't want you to get in trouble. And I would never wish more harm on you beyond what you're already doing to yourself." The Knights were known troublemakers. It was an inherited gene, Riley fought for years to distance herself from that perception, to seize control over her life, not become a deadbeat like her parents. She only wanted the same for Tommy.

"Could you just talk to me like a normal person? Ask me how my weekend was?"

She tried to be patient; "I'm your sister I just want to keep you safe. Why is that so difficult for you to wrap your head around? Look, these are the kinds of questions you're going to expect when those two come back, and they _will_ come back."

"They listened to you when you told them to get out."

She couldn't hold it in anymore. "Christ, Tommy. I'm a vice detective," she burst, stabbing at her chest. "Do you how it looks when my little brother's in the hospital because of a bad drug trip?"

He made her regret her words when he scowled at her hatefully. "Am I a stain on your sterling reputation, sis? Tuck me away in rehab and forget about me, that's what you want. It'll save you the humiliation. Your fucking duty over family, right?"

That hurt. A lot. "That's not what I meant. I would never-"

"That _is_ what you meant."

"Are you in danger, Toms?"

"No. It was just a bad trip," he repeated with a detached tone and the evenness of practice.

Sighing, she washed her hand over her face. Riley hated fighting with him. If he wasn't going to help at all then she was going to have to investigate herself. "I'm going to talk to the nurse."

He grunted and nodded once, not looking at her as she left. Faraday would protect him here. Out in the hallway she ushered over the officer she knew. "Michaels. I'm sorry about that. I put you in a shitty position. I got to know; is my brother being charged?"

"He's not. I'm sorry Knight. I had no idea. I see the resemblance now... but you know how it is. When, um, guys like him are brought in, we ask questions, we try to find the source of the drugs—"

She saved him from the awkwardness. "It's alright. I would do the same thing. You know, gossip spreads like wildfire at the station but just do me a favour, try to keep my brother out of it for as long as you can. I just—I don't—"

"Knight. I get it. And I will." She shook his hand, holding him to that promise.

"Is he going to be okay?" Michaels asked, genuinely concerned.

"He will be." But she didn't believe herself either.

* * *

Close to dawn she was on patrol and made an excuse to separate from her duty partner. Working her street contacts, she found the den of heroin users within the hour. It was a nursing home that shared a lawn with a rundown church, located in a corner of the city wrecked by the battle.

There were two wheelchairs by the entrance, obviously vacated in haste. It was an infinitely lonely place, fallen debris the relic of the chaos that had erupted in her city three years ago.

Gun in hand she scouted the abandoned rooms. She determined the place was empty. Upstairs there was a small alcove with a stained mattress on the floor that someone had moved below a set of charming French windows. The sunlight would hit the alcove perfectly at sunrise. It was pleasantly warm there, cosy if you ignored the dusty floors, odd smells and graffiti.

She knew her brother, the kind of places he would escape too. On closer inspection of the mattress, her heart fell; the bunched blanket on the mattress was definitely Tommy's. Their grandmother gave it to him when he was three, four months before she died.

Riley didn't remember her well, but she had cried at the funeral and Tommy gave her a tissue afterwards, not because he understood what death was but because he thought she needed it. It was sweet.

The blanket was a moth eaten rag now; you almost couldn't recognize the paisley flowers in the patchwork squares.

She unruffled it and beneath, found Tommy's stash of drugs. "Uh," she threw aside the blanket and used needles were tossed out.

A wave of nausea turned over her stomach, her subconscious replayed her own horrible experiences. She sunk to the floor, her knees brushing the mattress, hyperventilating. After a minute or two, the shrill breaths turned to gulps as she recovered herself, rolling onto her heels to stand on unstable legs.

Riley moved one leg and then another. Then she was running, down the stairs, past the wheelchairs and outside, onto the overgrown grass, down the paved path. She tangled with cobwebs as she burst through the doors of the dilapidated church.

Mold grew on the whitewashed walls; the ceiling had caved in exposing the skeleton of the rafters. Sunlight spotlighted on the ground through the cracks like direct paths for angels to descend from the sky. Dust motes danced in the golden light shining through stained glass windows.

Riley was drawn to an empty pew. She sat in one, for the first time in over twenty years. She didn't move, did not draw a breath, did not lift her head, barely felt her heart beat. Then something came over her, an ache that rattled through her to her lungs. Riley bent forward and sobbed, clasping her hands together on top of the seat in front of her. It could have been in prayer if she wasn't still clutching a gun between her hands.

It was deathly silent in the halls above and around her. There she stayed in the echoing ruins, torn and isolated. Taking out her phone she dialled Amy's number. There was no one on the other end to answer, but she needed to hear her voice. Like always, it went straight to voicemail;

" _Hello, this is Amy, I can't come to the phone right now, leave me a message and I'll get back to you ASAP."_

"Hey. So it happened again. Tommy's using. I-I almost lost him…again. I'm. I'm trying…to be there for him… but he doesn't want me," she paused to wipe her eyes. "I think he's in trouble. I-I don't even know if I want him to come back anymore. He'll just do it again. Does that make me a horrible person?"

The recording time bitterly ended before she could finish.

She took a packet of heroin she found, holding it between her thumb and forefinger. The symbol on it was a signature of the Chinese, a derivative of a question mark.

As lead on an anti-drug task force, her job was to eradicate the sale of Schedule One substances in her city. Either she investigated her brother, find where he got the dope, and his supplier, have him arrested and thrown into jail for Class C felony while she hunted the manufacturers of the drug…

…or she lied.

Lied and end this right then and there.

It wasn't as difficult a choice as she thought it would be. Riley strode back with determination to the nursing home. As a vice detective and former drug user she knew the habits and tendencies of addicts. She gathered the evidence, including their grandmother's blanket.

Downstairs, she threw it into a discarded barrel that had been used to make a fire. She flicked the switch of her lighter and stared at the flame, feeling a little insane, criminal, like an arsonist playing with fire for the first time. _Protect him, like always._

She dropped the lighter into the barrel. The fire greedily gulped the residual fuel and consumed the drugs with it, the blanket took flame the slowest but eventually it spat out meagre sparks. She felt those grey revenants standing in a crescent behind her, watching. She tried to will them away. The fire grew and grew, washing her face in a fierce red glow.

* * *

Later that morning it was jarring to revert her focus to Wes Cleon, knowing that her little brother was two floors down, in pain, hiding a secret from her. Yet he was still a thousand miles from her no matter what she tried. She glanced left and right at the stretch of hospital hallway like a spooked child, as if someone would jump out of a corner and list her crimes before a thrown-together jury of nurses and sick folk.

But she breathed easier, because at least she had kept him out of jail.

She wasn't the only one spacing out that morning. Frank Sinjon was with her taking secondary statements from a foreign couple whom were mugged last night. The man and woman were both traumatised and beat up.

 _Where was Daredevil to protect them?_

Sinjon was staring blankly at the wall. She snapped her fingers at him. "Hey don't check out on me, we have work to do, and I sure as hell ain't gonna to pick up your slack for you."

"Huh? Oh. Right." He shook his head to get back on the same page.

"Something wrong?"

"No…Yes. The case with those girls you saved, the one where Daredevil killed the thugs…"

 _Supposedly killed,_ she could've corrected, but her opinion of the vigilante was still undecided.

"I know the one, Frank. You can't forget a guy in red horns dropping in to do your job for you." She arched a brow, "Why? What's the matter? You have a lead you want to run by me?"

The remote uncertainty from a moment ago was gone, returning to the egotistic Frank she knew and hated. "Never mind, it's none of your concern."

* * *

He had smelt the upcoming rainstorm in the air that morning, but being preoccupied with the Wes Cleon case he forgot to bring an umbrella anyway. Matt described the charges against him, tried coercion, even gentle threats, but Cleon still would not surrender the name of his gang leader.

Perhaps it had been a miscalculation to muscle Detective Knight away from the young man. She had established a semi-friendly relationship with him, he'd heard them banter, Wes' subtle plea for her approval on his innocence.

Not like he was ever going to give Knight the satisfaction that she had done a better job than him at questioning his client.

The first drop of rainfall splashed onto the sidewalk five feet from him _._ More fell, _pitter-patter, pitter-patter_. The other pedestrians had not noticed it yet, but he did.

Summer rainstorms weren't kind to Matt's nose. They stewed with the garbage and animal excrement in the alleyways, elevating their combined scent into a permutation of something God-awful that was unique to him and him alone. Matt stopped at a particularly long traffic light at the curb. He was five blocks from home when the downpour started; grunts of surprise and annoyance were let out around him.

Others on foot ran into shops for cover or under bus stops, but he had to endure the weather to maintain the 'blind-man' appearance. The water pelted him, dampening his hair and clothes. It was pretty exhausting, especially when a fat droplet rolled into the cut on his cheekbone and the collar of his wet dress shirt clung to his skin. He should've just stayed at the office.

While the rain was cacophonous, and could be as loud as a iron smith's hammer beating on steel. Stick had taught him to reduce the volume and use the rain to etch the surfaces of his surroundings, like an external sonar to aid him. Everything, from the bus stop sign, to the manhole cover, and the commuters beside him went from impressionistic paintings to stippling brush strokes. The old man was gone before he could fully master the skill however.

As he waited for the light to change, he picked up a dash of patchouli rose, with an undertone of lemon, blown to him by the wind like a whisper. The rainwater melded with it, creating a musky, lush, dirty scent that was both familiar and unfamiliar to him.

And then there was no more rain, not because the sky decided to be merciful to the blind lawyer but because someone held an umbrella over him.

"Murdock."

Maintaining the blind man persona, he smiled; "you know me, but may I know whom I'm thanking?"

She cursed under her breath and then answered; "It's Knight. Detective Knight."

"Thank you detective," it was awkward saying it. But he had gotten used to thanking strangers on a daily basis, at least a dozen more times than the average person.

"You're not my favourite person in the world, Murdock. But I couldn't just walk past and ignore you while you soldiered on in the cold rain, it would have bothered my conscience for weeks if I did."

He grinned. "Your concern is…touching."

"We should cross." The detective did what was socially expected of her and reached for his arm. Her fingertips brushed his, she realised that was wrong, and seized her hand back as if he'd electrocuted her.

"Um, how—?"

"I take your elbow. You lead."

She cringed, and he kept grinning, she lightly smacked her forehead. "Of course." They got into the necessary position and crossed the street. "You always walk home alone? In the rain?"

"I can make it to and from the office on my own, detective. I wasn't blinded yesterday, you know." With most attractive women he would've used his classic move. 'The wounded handsome duck thing' as Foggy described it. But she was a rare exception. "And no one gave me a head's up on the weather today so here I am."

With the surety in her step she knew how to get to his home, and was poorly faking it. _She's done her research._ Matt had to be more careful. She was a cop, busting the door down and snooping was in her veins. _If she happens to pay a visit to my apartment on the wrong day to confirm a suspicion then we'll be in a crap ton of trouble._

"Maybe you should invest in a guide dog," she teased with a secret smile. They both laughed. "I had a feeling you wouldn't like the idea."

"Foggy thinks I should too, but I think that's because he wants one for himself."

"Look at this; a lawyer and an officer of the law walking arm in arm down the street."

"Sounds like the start of a bad joke."

Knight gave a short laugh, and they fell silent again. Her breath hitched with hesitation. "Yesterday. With Wes Cleon, can we both agree we both got carried away?"

 _Well, it was nice while it lasted._ "Actually, I didn't. I was just pointing out the obvious flaws in your handling of—"

She stopped him short. "Jeez, I'm trying to talk to you like a normal person here, totally off the record. No ridiculous competition. It may not be apparent from either of our perspectives. But bottom line we're both just trying to do what's best for the city, even if our opinions clash."

He let go of her and pretended not to notice that she was still generously supporting the umbrella over his entire body, while her jeans were getting wet. He wanted to tell her to keep herself dry, not to worry about him, _but appearances._

"I guess…I was a bit more confrontational than usual," he conceded. And it was true. The chase across the rooftops after the drug raid had gotten to him. He didn't like it, and he couldn't explain it. Whether it was her in general or something she said, or a bit of both.

Knight raised a warning finger; "But—and I will deny it if you repeat this to another living soul—you are a good lawyer, Murdock."

He was actually surprised. Something's couldn't be predetermined in a person's heartbeat. "Whoa, whoa. Excuse me? Compliments, from you? Are you really Riley Knight, or someone impersonating her?"

He actually got away with a first name. "Don't get ahead of yourself. Just say 'thank you' and move on."

"I should record this."

She swayed closer to get beneath the vicinity of the umbrella; he felt her warmth in front of him. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, he caught that rose-rainwater musk he had detected earlier.

"I have to tell you the truth. I went to your firm."

His brows were raised to his hairline. "Why?" He asked warily.

"I was looking for you."

Nothing was as it seemed with her. Most people were easy for him to read, but she was like reading Chinese Braille. He never noted the rigidity of her shoulder blades, the tangy taste of salt from shed tears on her cheeks, but those seemed unrelated. Nevertheless, he had to tread cautiously here.

"Why were you looking for me?"

"I needed to ask you a few questions."

He was on his block now, a few quick strides and he could avoid her questions entirely. No way was he going to let her work him like one of her marks. "So much for this being a normal conversation. What do your questions pertain to?"

She edged her foot to the side in a position to stop him if he tried to evade her. "Something you mentioned in the hospital."

"You know we were off to a good start. You just had to ruin it." He filtered through the conversation that passed. It was towards the end when he had slipped up and mentioned the alleyway. She had not been specific however, neither did he want to retaliate too harshly when she was still trying to be casual. "You've put me on the spot, followed me home even, that's overstepping your boundaries don't you agree? If this doesn't concern an ongoing investigation then we-"

"It does, actually. And you could help me."

"And what probable cause does a blind man have in an ongoing police investigation?" He demanded ironically, his face revealing nothing.

She licked and bit her bottom lip. "I was just going to ask you if you wanted a drink." Normally he would've been flattered, but she had a hidden agenda beneath her flirty tone.

He smirked, "You should've started with that. I might've said yes." He swung his cane to the right and she sidestepped backwards to avoid it, this gave him an opening to shoulder past her.

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to why I would need to question you? C'mon, don't you want to know?"

He stopped. _Goddamit._ Of course the curiosity was going to burn through him for hours, but he couldn't take the risk.

"Nice try. Goodbye, detective."

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed the Riley/Matt interactions! And yay for some Riley backstory. I'm sorry it took so long to update, but I made this chapter a bit longer for you. I just moved to a new country and started my undergrad degree in Medicine (and praying that I don't regret it somewhere down the line) It's been fun but very very hectic! See you later!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: so sorry for such a late update! Please forgive the broke ass struggling med student! I am still pretty invested in this story, writing when I do have the free time. But seriously its your reviews and follows that keep me writing! Anyway, it's past midnight where I am so Happy New Year's Eve! I hope all of you have an amazing year! xoxo**

* * *

The staircase seemed to wind on infinitely higher and higher. No one was leaving their apartment, thus Matt sprinted up like a non-blind person running from the police. Literally. Even with his stamina and physical strength he was out of breath when he rammed his front door open. Matt tossed the keys onto the side table and slammed the door. He tilted his head back on it, letting its cool temperature and the familiarity of the paint wash over him. _She has nothing. She doesn't know anything;_ he chanted as if God would make it true the more he repeated it.

His throat felt tight, so he loosened his tie. His damp clothes were like second skin, clinging to him in all the wrong ways. He walked to his bedroom, undressing himself, cursing that he had allowed himself to be caught off guard. For someone who has been lying to the world since the age of nine, he let a random Detective weasel herself into his life and pin him as a suspect in— _well I'm not entirely sure, am I?_

 _She has nothing._

Still. Paranoid recitations in his head were not going to get him anywhere closer to making this problem disappear. Her tenacity would keep her digging and digging into this. Foggy, Karen, Claire…their well being and freedom were on the line. And what had cost them that? _Me, being a competitive son of a bitch, who couldn't let a teeny tiny grudge, go._

He hated himself. He hated her. Matt showered and readied himself to go out whilst rationalizing her suspicions. It had to be something to do with Daredevil. She had no reason to investigate Matt Murdock whose slate was so clean you could eat food off it, unless he was connected to something much more nefarious.

After the shower he listened for the traffic outside. In half an hour it would slow down. It wouldn't be long until he had to go on patrol, the only part of his night that would keep him sane and focused amidst the stresses of his day job. _That's supposed to work the other way around, isn't it?_ Opening the black case, he lifted the hidden compartment where he kept his suit— he knew there was only one way to find out just exactly what she knew.

* * *

Matt Murdock was either innocent or a very good actor. He did not flinch at her direct remarks, merely remained wary with a bland, sarcastic tone, which was entirely normal of a defense lawyer who was under suspicion for a felony. A blind man would be the perfect confidante for a masked vigilante. He wouldn't have to worry about his secret identity being exposed, as the lawyer would never be able to ID him. _It's diabolical and genius._

Riley was overreaching here, but the connection between Fisk and Nelson & Murdock was too blaring for her to ignore.

She knocked on the flat door before her. Its tenant was an informant she was keeping on a hook for special cases. She was not under any disillusionment that manipulating people to uphold the law was something to be abhorred. Nothing would ever get done without informants and low-lives you kept on a leash. It simply did not bother her anymore. That refined and civilised fresh rookie smile and moral uptightness had withered away when she pried a confession from a mother who sprinkled arsenic into her babies' sippy cups for attention.

Humanity sucks. But at least she was trying to suck less than the people she put behind bars.

She heard Derrick swear on the other end and what sounded like a stack of books falling. After a moment the door creaked open. His eyes widened to the size of pennies. She gave him a toothy smile; he gave a squeaky yelp and jumped, failing to shut the door in her face when Riley jammed her foot in it.

"Derrick. C'mon."

"How did you even get up here?" He demanded with a helpless look as he spoke to her from the doorframe. He had that familiar resignation she could induce in people whom were under her thumb and owed her favors. Which was why she was here accosting him.

"I have my ways. I need a favour-"

"Not interested," he cut in before she could finish. "Do you know how much crap I'm going to get just for talking to you?" He glared at her, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses.

Derrick had been blackmailed into doing the books for a former drug lord in Harlem until Riley collared aforementioned trafficker. She knew of his history in computer programming and 'hacktivism', thus decided to let him off after she saw the potential in having a free IT tech to consult with should the opportunity arise. And it had.

"This is good."

"If you're going to offer me a job at the precinct, for the last fracking time I don't want anything—"

"I'm not. But seriously you should consider it. This is about a case a though. I think you'll like it," her mouth creaked into an encouraging fake smile, even the tech could tell it was shit.

But in spite of the fact that he didn't like the sight of her, his eyebrows raised a milimeter with interest. "And…how do you know that?"

"You could say it involved masked heroes of the sort. You're interested in that stuff aren't you? Fan of flag man, huh?"

His grip loosened. "You mean Captain America," he corrected haughtily, frowning.

"Whatever. Doesn't make sense why you would idolize him- since he's literally the embodiment of our shit government and a dead American Dream." His frown creased further into defiance. He started to close the door again when she pounded her fist on it, emitting another squeak from him.

"I have something better, something a little closer to home—Two minutes, Derrick."

…

Pacing the length of the cramped area behind the desk of monitors, she chewed her thumbnail waiting for his deliberation on the evidence she presented. Her request was simple: map out Daredevil territory and find his base of operations.

After another dragged out stretch of keyboard tapping and silence she lashed out; "So can you do it?"

"Seriously? You have to ask me?" He asked, incredulous, angling his neck to look at her.

She had no time for his sass; "Can you or can you not?"

He combed his fingers through his unruly blonde hair; "Yes I can. Just give me a day or two to do my magic." The IT tech had a tendency to be a nervous wreck and she was not helping, nor would his concoction of Red Bull and coffee settle his frazzled nerves (and she thought she had bad insomnia).

But she couldn't help but be on edge this past week with everything that had gone down. Daredevil could be tracking her for all she knew, watching her every move. _Or I'm paranoid, or I'm not getting enough sleep, or, or, or..._ even Alfie was 'subtlety' hinting that she had PTSD and should seek therapy.

"Good. That wasn't so hard was it? Alright, I'm late. I'll check back in tomorrow, whether you like it or not."

He held a finger up before she could leave; "Hold on a sec, I'll do this on one condition."

She narrowed her eyes at him. Normally, he had a grudging respect for her after she saved him and never put the brakes on whatever hacktivist crime he was committing. But never had he asked _her_ to return the favor.

"Not a sentence I'd like to hear, but go on."

"Nothing for me. But if I do this and it works out—"

"You better not pull a fast one on me Derrick. I won't take it gently," she sharply reminded.

He showed his hands in capitulation; "I won't, I won't," he replied with fractional hesitation. "All I ask is that when you find him, don't—don't send a SWAT team on his ass. Just go alone, and maybe… I don't know...hear him out first?"

"Why would you protect him?" She asked, unable to comprehend this stand he was taking. "This vigilante you don't even know."

"Daredevil is like the poster child for my generation. Ours; if you would stop acting like you're that much older than me. He's fighting oppression, the effed up system the rest of us are enslaved by," said Derrick with notes of passion. "He doesn't give a damn, even better, he's actually making Hell's Kitchen a safer place to live in. And I don't want to help you, help them take _him_ out. He seems like a good guy."

Riley was the only cop he trusted and she needed that trust, (appreciated it, even). But she had to disagree with him. Derrick was one of the smartest men she had ever come across but even he lived in a world of dreamy idealism. She preferred the grittier reality, because that was the only truth that made any sense to her.

"Derrick," she began with the bluntness of a hammer; "If the mask wanted to help this city, he should have been a cop, or firefighter, and with some patriotism in him he could have been a soldier like your blue and red Captain. But he isn't," bitterness curled her mouth. "The man he's trying to be is very, very different from the man he actually is. He's violent, unpredictable, without limits. A man like that, he's fuelled by rage. He may have not crossed the line yet, but it's easy to," her words were heavy with the weight of experience. "If I showed you pictures of how he's injured the people who gets in his way, you'd understand… and you'd want to run."

The room had gone quiet until only the honking of cars on the street could be heard. Derrick gulped, "You're—you're getting in his way. So aren't _you_ afraid of him?"

"No." She had never been more determined to solve the mystery behind his identity. "But you should be. He's not a leader, he's not a hero, and he's not anyone you should be looking up to."

The kind of darkness the man in the mask represented was not inspiring, and a community like Hell's Kitchen did not need any more men like him; uncontrollable, embodiments of chaos.

Derrick took a long glance at the algorithm he was making for her to capture Daredevil, his reservations etched across his face. She would try her best to adhere to his conditions, even though not arresting Daredevil at some point in the future sounded impossible to her ears.

"Look," she conceded airily. "I wasn't planning on ambushing him but neither was I going to ask him if he wanted to a grab a cup of coffee. I haven't planned it out yet. But I will tell you that no one knows about this algorithm other than you and me. I don't trust anyone at the moment." _Not even Alfie._ "Nevertheless, I can't make any promises. So with that in mind, will you still do it?"

"I get it," he said with some dissatisfaction. She thought he might refuse, but then he nodded, "I'll do it."

"Good." She nodded back, adding wryly; "I'll get you an autograph, if you'd like one."

* * *

At 1 am dispatch sent her to a tenement building. The rest of block was dark in comparison, but the flat before her had five lights on, from the third floor down. She went into the lobby, which didn't look like it had been renovated since the eighties with it's tacky, faded wallpaper. Two people looked expectantly at her as if they had been waiting for her arrival; a man in his late fifties with a port belly and receding hairline and an even older small woman with watery grey eyes in a pink bed rode and slippers. She knew the man.

"Baba O'Riley! Looking spiffy in that uniform aren't ya?" Remarked Mr. Bernard in his gruff English accent.

"You should be inside." From here she could hear the commotion upstairs, it sounded like someone was turning furniture to splinters.

"Ah, Knight!" He continued cheerfully. "It's been an age. Look at that, 7 months sober," he shook his keychain attached to his belt at her. A bronze 7 shone in the artificial lobby light. Bernard was an on and off alcoholic she'd had to arrest for D&D's several times in the past. Seven months of sobriety was quite long considering his standards.

"I'm Mrs. O'Dowd and I need to speak with the police," asserted the old woman with a demanding tap of her slippered foot.

She glanced at her tiredly, "I am the police, m'am. But, first I should check on the noise complaint, my partner will be here shortly to assist you."

"I couldn't sleep with the commotion," complained Bernard. "I just wanted to see what this drunk shit was doing."

Mrs. O'Dowd grunted disapprovingly at Bernard's foul language before throwing a sullen look at Riley for prioritizing her as the second most important problem. Disgruntled, she wobbled back into her apartment.

The noise escalated and was accompanied with stomps. This was probably an ongoing issue in the tenancy. "I better get upstairs before he tears up the place, get back inside your apartment."

"Fucking hell!" Bernard tossed his arms up, when it sounded like the ceiling might cave-in on them. "This is what I called you about. Do something, he has to go!" The rucus woke Bernard's son, a boy with big hazelnut eyes and shaggy brown hair. He peeked at them from his front door.

"What set him off?"

"Who knows?" He ranted. "Man's got a hair trigger. He drinks."

She looked at him flatly after that hypocritical comment, and then they were both distracted by a woman's scream.

"I didn't know anyone else was up there," Bernard frowned at the ceiling with disquiet.

"Inside. Now. You and your kid."

Bernard whipped his head at little PJ, only noticing him then, "Oi! Get the hell back to bed!"

She cleared her throat reproachfully at him. "I'll knock when the coast is clear," said Riley before running up the stairs.

"You're going to know who I fucking am you hear me? Hey looked at me!" The voice roared when she got to the third floor. She ran down the hallway to where the quarrel was the loudest and broke the door down, just in time to see a large bearded man smack a woman across the face so hard Riley saw the blood trail flying out of her split lip.

"NYPD!"

The woman was eerily familiar; she blinked like a deer in headlights at Riley beneath heavily lined eyes and a sheet of matted blonde hair. The man sneered at her, the alcohol had made him stupidly brave, and he was not afraid of her or her gun. His thick hand was wrapped tight around the woman's pale arm; the skin reddening into what would become a bruise once this was over. His other hand held a beer bottle he was about to smash onto her head.

He growled like a feral beast, "What are you gonna fucking do bitch?" He shook the woman like a rag doll.

"Let her go or I will put you down!"

Not a plea, nor a command, the first thing the woman screamed was; "He owes me money!"

That enraged him until his face was blotchy red, he lifted the bottle; Riley dove forward and crashed into him. The woman stumbled to the side with a squeal. Riley tried to grab the man's arm and keep him pinned with her knees. His fist swung upwards, she narrowly missed the blow. Riley retaliated and gave him a black eye. But he was too strong for her, he caught her bandaged hand and pressed deeply into the cut, a muffled groan ripped between her teeth and it was easy to throw her off afterwards.

"At least make it a fuckin' challenge, cunt," he spat violently, rising.

"You owe me!" Shrieked the woman from the corner of the room. _Why the_ hell _is she still here?_

"You're not getting shit bitch," he hissed through bloody gums. "I'll fuckin' put you in the ground."

Riley pointed her gun again. She was reluctant to actually shoot anyone tonight, thank God her partner joined her.

"Put your hands over your head!" Begrudgingly he obeyed. Her partner, Officer Mahoney- shuffled into the cramped studio apartment and arrested him. As he recited the Miranda rights, Riley signaled that she would deal with the woman, who she could tell was obviously a prostitute. _A split lip, blackening eye, and bruised arm. She's been marked. That'll piss off her pimp._ Sometimes she was disgusted with herself and her knowledge of a girls worth on the market.

Riley gave her a tissue to wipe her face and she was oddly glad she took it. "Let's get you out of here." She shepherded her through the hallway and downstairs, shouting at tenants to return to their homes.

After taking the necessary statements, and sending Mahoney to deal with Mrs. O'Dowd—they stood below the front stoop. Riley had no choice but to confront the attacked woman;

"Would you like to tell me what happened in there?"

"Just a misunderstanding that turned into a shit show."

"Why was he hitting you?"

"Ask him that," she retorted.

"I will, but I asked you first." The woman, in her early twenties, pretty if you removed the cheap make-up, languidly took out a cigarette leaving the question hanging in the air as if it would eventually be forgotten. This casual act of defiance did not frustrate Riley. The lighter she flicked failed to catch flame.

She studied her closely until she made her uncomfortable. "I know you, don't I?"

"I don't think we've ever met. Sorry." _Click, click._

A pit formed and sunk her chest. She did know her. She never forgot a face once she's seen it. This face had been absent and unstirred by men threatening to kill her if she did not climb into a dark container that would embark on a voyage to her doom.

"Daria, isn't it?"

"I—you remember," she was mildly disappointed that Riley didn't buy her bald-faced lie. She could hear her Eastern European accent emerging through, a characteristic she must conceal when entertaining… clients.

"Of course I do. What's going on? We—" she cleared her throat to blanket over the fact that she nearly lumped herself with Daredevil, as if they were partners or something. "–I saved you that night, you're free," she tried to ignore the tightness in her chest, how her stomach was tied in knots. "I don't understand. Why…why are you doing this?"

 _Click. Click. Click._ Daria took the cig out of her mouth; a red rim of lipstick stained the white filter paper. "Hmph, what is freedom, really?" Her acerbic laugh cut through the air, Riley almost flinched. "Besides, I never stopped doing this. I did this before you 'saved' me. After you smiled and waved goodbye to me, all proud with your white collar job, pricey Italian leather jacket and pearly white teeth— I went back to work."

Daria was taking a stab at her to make her feel like shit, and it worked. Her spite was warranted though. _The system fails her constantly. I failed her._ The lighter still gave no sparks. _Click. Click._ Riley brandished her own lighter and lit the tip for her.

"Thanks." Despite her hard-bitten words, her fingers shook as she exhaled smoke. Riley watched the embers brighten and dim as she inhaled. Riley used to smoke, and not just tobacco. In the winters a cigarette was like a warm hug, and there was a time when she would've asked Daria if she had extra, just one, just to feel that buzz in her veins to take the edge off.

"Who do you work for, really?"

Daria leaned on the street lamp, "my lips are sealed." The smoke she blew out was swept by the light wind.

"If you don't answer my questions, I can't help you."

She took a long drag; "I'm answering them the best that I can."

Riley checked her notepad for the name of the attacker she got from Bernard, "The money that Forlow owes you, was it for solicitation?"

She smirked sardonically, "Would you believe me if I said no?"

"Would you believe that I'm not arresting anyone else tonight? And never planned too?"

That certainly perplexed her; "You were—you were just going to let me go?" She said, stunned by this.

"I thought you already knew that, since you didn't run."

She clutched her forehead and winced. "The bastard must've hit me harder than I thought." There was a long pause, Riley waited for her to continue. "He asked me to come over, didn't want sex, just wanted to make sure I kept my mouth quiet about knowing him. I ask him to pay me to keep his secret, but we couldn't settle on a price."

There was more to her story but her cigarette was nearly finished and she had promised not to detain her. Daria flicked the ash aside, staring at the concrete, lost in thought. "He's never hit me before. Things change I guess."

Riley grimaced, tasting bile in her mouth. "I guess."

"We don't have to make more of a thing of it than it already is."

"Come to the station, please. Make a statement, we can still stop this, Daria." Easier said than done, but she couldn't abandon her.

"Lady cop, I don't think you understand," she said gratingly. _She's more afraid of what they will do if she talks, and she doesn't trust me to help her._

"He hit you; he has to pay for it."

"You see the table? Turned it to splinters after I threw him on it. I wish it'd shattered his spinal cord, fuckin' asshole." She stamped out the cig with her heel.

Her gaze widened; "Maybe I should be arresting you." Daria looked worried, Riley raised her hands, "kidding, kidding. I'm still letting you go, since you won't willingly come with me...I'm guessing it'd be bad for you to show up empty handed. I really wish I could help."

A hopeful gleam lit her brown eyes. "You could get me out of a bad situation."

She wanted money. Riley didn't think it was possible to feel worst than she already did. "I can't, I'm sorry."

"You said you wanted to help me." For a moment she looked downtrodden, but Riley held her tongue despite how it felt as if something had shoved their fist into her chest. Then Daria remarked callously; "You should get cleaned up, you look like shit."

An awkward strained sound came out of Riley's mouth that was intended to be a laugh. Around this time of the night, dealing with low lives didn't leave her looking as tidy and as clean-cut compared to when she started. She passed her business card to her, feeling like she was handing a teaspoon of water to put out a forest fire. It was the second card she gave to the same person, she realized. _That's never happened before._

What was a pointless piece of paper with her phone number on it actually going to do? It wouldn't stop Daria from selling her body; it wouldn't protect the millions of other exploited girls, boys, men and women in the world. Considering she never called since the incident at the docks, she didn't need or want Riley's help and there was absolutely nothing she could do to fix that.

But she was still obligated to remind her that she was there for her, however helpless they both felt.

"I…I wish this was not how we parted ways."

"That makes one of us," she slipped the card into her purse.

"The other girl, is she your friend?"

"You mean Magdalena?"

Riley crossed her arms and hardened her gaze; "I'm certainly not referring to Natalie or Alison. They wouldn't…come back to this." Both of them were college girls from well-off families. She shrugged, "Don't know. Don't think Magdalena is even her real name, that night was the first and last time I saw her."

From what she could gather Daria and 'Magdalena' were probably 'owned' by different pimps. Whoever organized the trafficking scheme at the docks, whether it was the Italians or other crime gangs. They had reopened the pipeline to smuggle girls in, and were stepping on toes of the local prostitution rings by snatching girls and stealing their business.

People started wars over things like that and Hell's Kitchen would be their battleground.

"Please call me if there's anything I can do. If you feel like ending this, once and for all, I can help you. I know that's not the most convincing sales pitch, but I can," she said, earnestly.

"Alright." She mustered a smile and Riley couldn't tell if it was genuine or plastic.

* * *

Taking off patrol early at the blessed time of 4am, her eyelids were already closing in the elevator. Her bed was calling for her like a siren. But first a shower.

She adjusted the water temperature to just below scalding; not too pleasant, but not painful. She rubbed at her arms and legs letting the steam envelope her and the water wash off her plights and stresses. Her head drooped with sleepiness and she closed her eyes, resting her forehead on her hand against the shower wall.

She heard a low thud. Her eyelids flew open and she turned off the shower, listening carefully. Living on the edge 24/7 and odd nightly habits— they never write that in the job description. She heard the thud again and the tension left her shoulders when she realized it was her neighbors, 'moving furniture' around in the middle of the night as usual. Mildly disgusted, she rolled her eyes and got out of the shower.

Water from her wet air ran in rivulets down her back. She dried herself in front of the mirror. As she pulled her t-shirt over the curve of her waist she was internally grateful that her body was her own, that she had never been subjected to a life like Daria or Magdalena's.

Most often, she tackled cases with indifference and treated them like a challenge. They were just games and puzzles to solve. That had always been the healthiest approach for her. Usually she had Amy to vent or voice her anxieties too. But this time she was alone in her sadness for those girls.

 _Thud_.

There it was, but it wasn't next-door. She slowly tugged the handle of her bed-side drawer and drew the spare gun she kept for emergencies. Clocking it, she tiptoed out of her bedroom, sliding her back against the wall. The hallway and the living room was dark except for the streetlight flooding in from the sidewalk. She stepped through the doorway and aimed, but it was empty.

She released the breath she had been holding and lowered the gun—

—A hand clamped over her mouth from behind, muffling her scream, another twisted her wrist painfully, forcing her to release her weapon.

Her body tried to go into defense, she leaned forward slightly with the intent of throwing her attacker off when an iron grip came around her neck. She clawed at his arm, but the muscle was like corded steel as it applied more and more pressure, black dots flashed before her eyes.

The ceiling turned upside down and darkness flooded her vision.

…

Riley woke with a start; her hand immediately went to her throat, the muscle recalled the phantom arm that was there a moment ago, choking her, _still breathing._

Then she saw she had a visitor: the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

She seized in her seat. To her horror, he sat less than three feet from her on her coffee table. She was still in her home, in her arm chair to be exact. Her wrists were unbound and she remembered she had not walked out unarmed.

"Looking for this?" He waved it to her and set it beside his leg on the table. She thought she saw the ghost of a smirk on his lips. She leaned further into the chair, wishing it was deeper, and gripped the arm rests with bloodless knuckles.

He was too close for comfort, _too close._

"What do you want from me?"

He gave a noncommittal shrug, "just wanted to talk."

"Is that what you told Foster before you threw him off a roof?" She hissed.

"I had to do that," he said harshly, with no regrets. To be honest, she'd never worked with the now-dead (due to inexplicable complications whilst he was comatose in the hospital) detective so she didn't miss his absence at work. At any rate, if that was an earmark for the treatment the devil was giving detectives who didn't cooperate with him she had to be very, very careful of what she said next.

"How do I know you're not going to throw me out the window?" She would never let him get close enough to try, but he had snuck up on her without making a single sound. She had seen him fight. Being top of her class, Riley had always presumed she was a decent fighter, but her skills paled in comparison to him. He made her look like the clumsy kid in the schoolyard getting jumped by bullies.

"He was corrupt; he wasn't a real cop...not like you."

"And somehow you can the difference?" She asked venomously.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation, and added sarcastically; "Note that I didn't tie you up."

"You still have my gun."

"I wouldn't try anything if I were you. Lets see; that .9mm you keep on your mantle, I wouldn't reach for that either, you won't make it," he stated in a bored manner. "Your palms are sweating, from nerves and the shower you just took. The lamp beside you, the one you're thinking of using on me? It'll slip out of your grasp. But you're welcome to try," he shrugged, like it wouldn't make a difference to him if she attacked.

With mounting alarm, she swallowed, trying not to be startled; "you wanted to talk. Get to the point."

"The addict from the party. Do you think I killed him?"

Piecing together what he was referring too took her a moment. He was the indeed the prime suspect for Vern Woodrugh's death, but no one cared enough about a dead druggie to look deeper into it. Riley also knew that as of this instance, Daredevil was not a killer. If he could sense that she wanted to use the side lamp to attack him, then he could probably tell if she lied. How, she couldn't explain and didn't want to know. She had come to accept that the world she lived in was larger and stranger than she could ever dream. Aliens attacking from the sky tend to make you believe in the impossible.

"No."

"He had a daughter."

"Who?"

"The man who died, tied up in that chair with puncture marks in his arm...he had a daughter, someone he feels genuinely guilty for leaving, from the way he spoke of her. With a father like that, I bet she is somewhere cold, hungry, maybe dead," he said icily.

Her team had not seen records of Vern Woodrugh having a child, then again that had not been an important inquiry for them. Her sanity, heart and soul had been battered in a matter of days, which could be the only explanation for the conversation she was continuing to have with the red-horned vigilante. "Okay, what else did he say?"

He snorted with disdain, "Nothing useful. Just whispered about 'purifying her' with heroin or crystal, who knows? He wouldn't stop." He balled his fist until the leather crinkled. "I wanted to get more information but it was too late."

"Why come to me with this?"

"Because I knew you could do something to find her."

Riley silently promise that she would. She wouldn't see Frank until tomorrow and it was clawing her from the inside out what she had learnt about Daria's tragic fate. She was still possessive over that case, feeling as though it was meant to be hers to solve, not his. Thus, it came spilling from her lips;

"We didn't save them."

"Who?" He was nonplussed. For once she knew something he didn't.

"Those girls at the docks. On patrol, I came across one of them. There's something bigger happening out there...I don't understand what it is yet. But it's happening."

"I don't understand," he replied with a forced monotone hiding his own distress. He must feel the same way she did when she discovered Daria's return to prostitution. Hopeless, as if the world had started to spin on a different axis. But Riley couldn't bring herself to share these boiling emotions with Daredevil.

In spite of the fact that saving those girls had been a team effort, (however unplanned and reprehensible), and in spite of the fact that she knew he was no killer...he was still a criminal in her eyes.

"You have no fucking clue what the hell you're doing, do you? Do you just put that mask on every night with no plan, without fear of death, willingly sacrificing yourself to become a martyr?"

That had struck an exposed nerve. He tightened his jaw; "that's not why I do this."

"Mmhm, well it's not the only reason," she shot back.

With the way his jaw was working back and forth as if chewing a stone, he was considering something. "We could do something about it."

"'We'?" She repeated dubiously. He nodded.

"Let me get this straight; you're proposing a…partnership?"

"Something like that."

She exhaled a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're more insane than I thought. You fight justice in a mask; you're a vigilante." There was a sudden forcefulness in her tone, "You have no control. You think you can do whatever the hell you want."

There was grim set to his mouth, "You didn't have a problem with me when we worked together."

"With great reluctance on my part." He could still beat her in a fight, and she was crazy if she wasn't frightened of him. But she was angrier than scared then. "I shouldn't be partnering with you, I should've shot you."

His teeth grit together. "But you didn't," he was rather patient even if she had just given the alternative of killing him rather than joining him. "Not because you couldn't, but because you didn't want too. Why bother waking up every morning and putting that badge on when you know it means nothing if you're surrounded by people you can't trust. When you know that doing the _right_ thing gets you killed?" He leaned forward, his arms hanging limply on his knees, "Admit it, detective, I am a lesser evil."

The proximity caused a prickling sensation to sweep over every inch of her skin; "So that's it? You expect me to trust you now?"

"No…and I don't trust you either."

"Then how was this ever going to work?"

"You're incorruptible, and you don't want to see this city fall any farther than it already has." He was being earnest; she had to scope out liars for a living after all, and the Devils of Hell's Kitchen was not lying.

It made no sense for her to agree with this, and then she recalled their encounters in the previous nights, the task force hunting him down, and it made all the sense in the world. She bit her lip, mentally kicking herself for even considering this abject craziness. "I don't even know who you are, and you're asking me to put my job, _my life_ on the line."

"You put yourself in danger everyday for the city. You know there's more you could do if you weren't harassed by the media or tied down by rules and office politics. We both know that doing this by the book isn't going to stop them."

He was right in that respect. She had endured, seen, enough crap in her life before being a cop and after to know the world wasn't perfect, and that no one had ever accomplished anything by following the rules.

"You need someone like me to work outside of the law. And I need you to be someone on the inside."

Her brain was on fire. Riley averted his gaze from him, thinking. He wanted to save their city, he was trained, dangerous, reckless and impulsive. They had five things in common. But that could also be a recipe for disaster.

How was she supposed to put her faith in a man whose name she didn't even know? How long was she willing to let him go on? How far would she let him step off the line before she had to take him out herself? She had the badge; she had to enforce some level of authority over him... but would he let her? Would he listen to her? What if he went off the deep end? What if he killed someone, for real? Who would be held accountable for his actions?

There was too much risk in this partnership for her to rely on faith alone.

His broad shoulders coiled in tension as he realized she was not going to take the deal. She lunged at the lamp next to her and threw it at him.

He was right, her palms were sweaty.

He swiped it out of his way as she swung her legs over the back of the chair. She barely made the ten feet to the kitchen when he gained on her. She whirled and he stopped her fist by clamping his hand over it, like paper beating rock. She brought her knee up; as he blocked it she managed to click him in the left cheek. He yanked her elbow upwards and she retaliated by ramming into his chest. He stumbled and she would've cheered for making him lose his balance until she realized that every single one of his moves was evasive; the asshole was trying not to hurt her.

"I am on your side!"

"Get out of my home!" They traded blows. She circled around, her back facing the living room. Spinning, she dived over the arm chair to the gun he had left on the coffee table.

She had it in her hands, she landed on the ground and rolled onto her back. He leapt over the chair and stood over her, she saw the opening and took it. Riley fired at his chest—

—The gun clicked uselessly. There were no bullets. He had played her. _The son of a bitch._

Not five seconds later, he'd kicked the gun out of her hands and pinned her wrist above her head. He dug his fingers into her throat. She had been willing to kill him, and he was none too pleased by that.

All bets were off.

"I warned you not to try anything," he said in that low, hoarse, voice he used on street criminals he took no mercy on. The hand she had on his forearm was trembling as she tried to force him off. She was about to sorely regret her decision to turn down his offer. But say one thing of Riley Knight, say she was a fighter until her last breath.

"Do it," she spat in strangled wisps, "then I won't...catch...you later."

He lowered his head, that red mask loomed closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

She felt his hot breath ghosting over her cheek. "Until next time, detective."

He let go and she could finally breathe. She opened her eyes. One second, there he was moving over her and then he was gone. There was no way she was going to be able to recover, stand, get her .9mm from the mantle and shoot him, and he knew it too. She lied there on the floor, listening to her window open and him jump out of it.

After he was gone, after she caught her breathe, after she composed herself, she sat upright and shifted to lean on the wall. She hugged her knees and placed a hand on her heartbeat to check whether it was still there. It fluttered against her palm.

 _Still breathing…still alive._

* * *

Riley could count the number of times she had been afraid in her life on one hand.

Her first encounter with death almost always topped the list. It had been like falling from a cliff, everything rushes past you, until the second you make impact and then it clicks off and goes dark like an old TV set. Terror and then nothing.

Next was the first time she ever killed a man. But she never felt guilty for taking that particular life.

And now her home had been invaded, by the devil himself.

Would you trust a locksmiths whom had their own carefully crafted safe cracked open? The question answers itself. A cop's home was meant to be fortified, protected from within by the officer themselves. But her efforts, her ability to trust her competence at her job had been monumentally crushed beneath a giant boot from the sky.

She had vowed to protect the innocent but she couldn't even protect herself.

The only comfort she took in this was that her gut instinct had been correct, he had been tracking her for the past few days. Yet she had not been able to sense his presence until millisecond where his arm was wrapped around her throat. She took a deep breath, grateful that she still could.

She shook the sergeant's shoulder. "Mahoney."

Rousing him from his power nap, Mahoney smiled at the logo on the coffee cup she held outward to him.

"A thank you for giving me back-up in time before I got my face rearranged last night."

"This is from—?"

"Yup," she said, enunciating the 'p'. "That artisan cafe four blocks down you won't admit you love with a passion."

Brett snorted with mild derision; "walked in there yesterday and all these homeless looking guys started to trip."

She laughed with him "I believe the term is 'hipsters'." Sipping the coffee, his shoulders visibly relaxed; "You always had a better hang of pop culture lingo than I ever did."

"You kinda have too when you arrest a dozen millennial's in a single night." She sat next to him at his desk. It was as messy as hers, but likewise there was a method to the clutter. "But pop culture is not why I bought you overpriced coffee."

"Is this about Forlow?" His nose scrunched. "Care to explain why we've dropped the abuse charges against him?"

"The girl wanted too, I couldn't get the reason out of her." She was getting away with more and more white lies nowadays. They both saw Alfie storm past them looking cross, it must be another argument with Humphrey over the slow progress in apprehending Daredevil. But she didn't trust the integrity of the task force to help him, she had to find Daredevil on her own.

"Daredevil's doing a number on all of us," remarked Brett. "Really screwing over Alfie."

At the memory of the pressure on her trachea, she wrung her wrists beneath the table where Brett couldn't see. He took a long a gulp of caffeine; "Bastards the reason I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in the past week. Humphrey's more determined than ever to catch this guy. Got my ass handed to me too, the first time I got in the mask's way."

"Same here," she raised her own mug and they toasted their shared gripes with the vigilante. "So... Brett, we've been working together for the better half of five years."

"Don't go soft on me, Knight," though his tone remained light, with the direction the conversation was heading; they both knew there were no more jokes to make.

"In all seriousness, bottom line, when everything went to crap, I'm glad you weren't compromised. I'm running short on people I can count on."

"I understand, with the heroin drug rings, the higher-ups and the cops involved with Fisk—people suspected the vice detectives first, but I knew you were someone who could never be paid off."

"So can I expect an honest answer from you?" He merely nodded for her to keep going with an intrigued crease of his brow.

"Ben Urich. He was murdered by Fisk; that we can agree on by now." If Urich was killed by Fisk and Daredevil bagged him who's to say they weren't working together?

Brett's expression was bleak, "there isn't a shred of reliable evidence, but most of us have connected the dots." The disheartening truth was that Fisk might not even be charged for Ben's murder. With the other charges racked against him, deaths with flimsy evidence would not hold up in a courtroom. Thus, there would be no real justice for the journalist.

"But why did Fisk kill him?" She pressed, unable to keep her mouth shut. She was so tired of hitting dead-ends, playing it safe, she needed answers, and soon or get another visit from Daredevil. "What did Ben know? And how?"

"My best bet is Ben discovered something important to Fisk's past."

Riley showed Mahoney the report. "He was pursuing a story about him, to expose him for what he was. In his safe we found a stack of research he'd collected and typed up. But the detail in it is just—it's like he was there… in each of the events described." Brett scanned the report while she continued with her explanation; "he must have had an enormous network of contacts, allies...or someone who works anonymously, who isn't under the scrutiny we are, if you know what I mean."

"You really think the man in the mask was working with Urich?"

"If not him, who?"

Mahoney closed the file and pushed it back to her, a tightness on his face. In Riley's experience you could only ever be truly loyal to a handful of people in your life. You chose a side and there was no middle ground to it. His lack of a response was enough of an indication that he knew something he was bursting to tell her, but also felt obligated to keep his mouth shut. _But for who?_

"You know something don't you?"

"It was just a hunch I've always had. "

"Go on."

"It's not much to go on," he tried to discredit himself. But he knew it was too late for him to backtrack on her.

Riley flattened her palm on her desk, "you know I'll keep bugging you until you tell me."

He tilted his head in agreement. His eyes shifted to report and when they returned to hers they were steely, "I don't want to get dragged into any of this Knight. You have that look. You had it when Amy died."

It wasn't a warning. If anything it was the kindest thing anyone had said to her since this started. She was grateful for his concern but she could take care of herself.

"I almost went to Riker's to kill Fisk, I remember," she was unashamed to admit it. Pathetic as the attempt had been. _"_ But this isn't anything personal. I just want to figure out who he is like everyone else." It was another lie, at least a partial one, because she resented being made afraid of Daredevil and wanted to return the favour if she could. "As dull as it sounds; I want to do my part. Move forward." She had to find who was stirring this war in Hell's Kitchen.

"Alright. First tell me why you let that girl go."

 _We all love a good trade don't we?_ She didn't expect anything less of Mahoney. Thus she gave him a shortened version, minus the run-ins with Daredevil. Brett needn't know the whole truth. Nevertheless it aggravated him; "You should've told me," he said.

She shut him down, "your turn."

He sighed glumly and opened his desk drawer. She waited as he shuffled through a stack of business cards. Riley wasn't sure if she was breathing. Neither could she remember the last time she had been this afraid, nervous and exhilarated at once with a case. It was high, like the elusive first high heroin addicts sought to relive. Impossible for the addicts. But not for her.

Brett slapped a white card on his desk and her eyebrows shot to her hairline. "I believe Ben Urich was working with Nelson and Murdock to investigate Fisk."

"The defense attorneys?"

"Who else?"

Riley smirked, she picked the card and held it between her fingers. "Huh, how about that?"


	5. Chapter 5

They agreed to meet in front of the subway station a street away from the precinct in broad daylight. She wasn't risking any excursions at night that weren't directly work-related. She checked her watch again, _one hour late and four missed calls._ That was when her phone rang and it was Derrick, the man she was skipping her lunch break for.

"Where the hell are you? Don't you think I have better things to do?"

He sucked in a sharp breath and she knew something was wrong; " _I'm sorry. I-I couldn't do it. I mean I did b-but—"_

"Wait, what are you saying? You did or didn't?"

" _I did but— I can't help you."_

"Why? Did something happen?"

He gulped, " _He visited me,"_ he whispered softly, she almost did not hear him over the traffic sounds.

"Daredevil?" But she knew the answer already. Just when she thought she was one step ahead of the vigilante…

" _Yeah... I was too afraid to even leave my house. I-I was playing League and then the power cuts...I see his reflection on my screen...a-and I lost it. He grabbed me and said I had to delete everything or else."_

"Or else what?" She demanded a tad too aggressively.

" _I don't know! I didn't ask for specifics! He also said I couldn't meet with you."_

The time and effort she had put into tracking Daredevil was about to be flushed down the drain. She had to placate him or risk being shoved back to square one; "Derrick—"

" _I can't. I'm sorry. I have to leave."_

"I've protected you before, I can do it again. You don't have to leave town."

She should've known her words were falling on deaf ears. _"I just can't! Okay?! I have to go. Somewhere he can't find me, somewhere you can't find me. I should've done this ages ago."_

The last part stung a little. She didn't intentionally mean to wreck people's lives, but that was the cost of being even remotely associated with her in any way. "At least tell me what you found," she suggested as gently as she could before he hung up.

"Something you remember, please."

The sounds of bags and clothes shuffling halted as he hesitated. " _South east of Hell's Kitchen. Couldn't triangulate the exact coordinate but his base is somewhere there."_

It did narrow it down. Not by much, but this was huge progress. "Thank you, and...I'm sorry," apologizing had always been the most difficult thing for her to do. "But I swear, I'll find him and you won't have to run anymore."

She heard his lips smack and in an abnormally wry tone say; _"I'm a hacker, I'll always have to hide. When you do find him tell him he owes me a Nvidia G-Force GTX 980M GPU. I saved a lot of moolah for that and it was wrecked when he threw me on it."_

Her laugh was a tired exhale. This was how he said goodbye. "Yeah, definitely. It'll be the first thing I tell him."

He hung up after that. _South east of Hell's Kitchen._ The hunt was on.

* * *

The placard at the firm's entrance was a piece of A4 paper with 'Nelson & Murdock' scrawled on it. They were a fairly young firm. A blonde woman answered the door, the legal assistant Ms. Karen Page she presumed. Riley showed her badge. Her expression changed from neutral to distrust, though she masked it swiftly with a tight smile.

"Yes, officer?"

"My name is Detective Knight, I'm making inquiries regarding Ben Urich?" Riley held the picture to the woman. "He was a journalist at the New York Bulletin. Could I speak to Mr. Nelson or Mr. Murdock?"

Page uncrossed her arms and her posture was straighter and more defensive. "What about Ben Urich?"

"I'm sure you heard about what happened to him?"

Her eyes did not meet Riley's when she answered; "Yes."

"Are your colleagues here?"

"I thought the investigation was over. You already have the man who murdered him," the mention of the journalists death seemed to unnerve Ms. Page, which only fed Riley's curiosity.

"This is just routine to make sure we've got our facts straight," she lied.

"Unfortunately, you just missed them. They're meeting a client."

But it wasn't going to be that easy to get rid of Riley, "I see, well would you be able to answer any of my questions?"

Karen's face faltered as if she wanted to be anywhere else but there at that moment, but she re-plastered that polite smile and held the door ajar; "Of course."

...

Nelson & Murdock's office was certainly shabbier than the 30th story established corporate law firms she was accustomed too. She had to walk amongst snakes in the grass there. Here, the atmosphere was more humble, the floorboards creaked, the photocopier looked twenty years old and the awnings needed a fresh coat of paint.

"Would you like something to drink, detective?"

"Some water, if you don't mind." She took the seat Ms. Page rolled towards her. Normally she never asked for anything, but if she could prolong her stay there she might be able to catch Nelson and Murdock when they returned.

Despite the unrefined character and simplicity of the firm, there felt something incredibly personal about it. Nelson and Murdock had been friends since Columbia and they started this business together. A great deal of trust, integrity and respect goes into such a feat. For that she regarded them in acclaim.

Once Ms. Page settled into her chair, crossed and uncrossed her legs in an effort to get comfortable but still look poised, Riley dove into her first question; "How long did you know Mr. Urich?"

"Around five months, maybe less."

"He published the expose that toppled Union Allied; you were once employed there, weren't you?"

Karen made a disapproving look, "are these questions about me, or Ben?"

"I just want to establish a timeline, Ms. Page. Did you approach him after the Union Allied story?"

"Yes, I knew none of it could have been over that easily."

"And when did your investigations take you to Wilson Fisk?"

"We found out who he was the same way everyone else did." She folded her arms in a huff, "is that it, then? Everyone still mentions Fisk and his involvement in the drug cartels but not a word of what he did to Ben."

Riley spoke firmly, "Ms. Page, we are doing everything in our power to ensure Mr. Urich gets the justice he deserves." If only Karen knew she had said those same lines in that same tone to hundreds of people before her, even Riley herself doubted it after so much repetition. But seeking justice was the reason she still woke up every morning; she had to believe in it no matter what the odds were.

Karen trilled her fingers on her arm, "I'm sorry if I find that hard to believe," she replied, voice cold and precise.

"Fisk is where he belongs."

"Convicted but not prosecuted, who knows how long that'll take?"

"You should ask your lawyers that question."

After a few more questions, Riley could tell Page was eyeing her empty glass and that she was one more question away from overstaying her welcome. Karen escorted her to the front door, the tension from before relieved but the obvious mistrust still etched in tense lines beneath her eyes.

Before Riley forgot, she searched in her pockets for a picture of one of Wilson's cronies that had been murdered in warehouse by the docks just before the scandal blew up. Rumored to be his right hand man. The victim's name did not come to her immediately; it had been several months since she read the autopsy report. _Sometimes loyalty can be dangerous_.

She showed her the picture the coroner had taken of the cadaver's face.

"One more thing; do you recognize this man?"

Karen Page paled. Her blue eyes were stark against her porcelain skin; her body went rigid as if she was a statue. "No."

It took Karen a moment to answer, but a moment too long. Riley frowned at her adverse, unexpected reaction. It was as if she'd just seen a ghost. She remained aloof though; some folks were uncomfortable with pictures of the dead. Riley had never been very good at sparing people from that sort of thing.

"Are you sure? His name is James Wesley; Nelson & Murdock represented one of his clients. I wouldn't say the case ended with a victory for your firm, the client was far from innocent of his crimes." It seemed unlike the partners to take on a case like that. But if you consider the state of their office, perhaps they were in desperate need of the money.

The colour returned to Karen's cheeks, she swallowed, composing herself; "I've met the client but I've never seen him before, he's never come by the office."

She put the photo back into her pocket, "mmhm it's a shame Mr. Nelson and Mr. Murdock aren't here to corroborate you."

Karen already had her hand on the door, prepared shut in her face; "another time, detective."

* * *

They were two blocks from the office when he smelt her, or what was the essence of her. Foggy went on analyzing the meeting with the client and jumping to what takeout to order for dinner. His best friend could unabashedly talk for hours; it was only halfway up the stairs when he noticed Matt wasn't paying attention.

"Matt, are you even listening to me?"

He ignored him and twisted the door handle, "Karen?" Matt called out.

"Oh hey, guys." At the threshold of the office, he caught the scent of something else as well. Not enough perfume could mask the odor of cigarettes. He didn't ask though. Karen had been in a continuous state of disquiet since the Fisk scandal was over, he could hear it in her fractured heartbeat. Yet she kept assuring him she was fine.

It bothered Matt almost daily. But there were only so many times he could keep asking her if she was okay without annoying her. Karen was the type of person who didn't need coddling or anyone's pity. Thus he chose to respect that whatever she was going through must be private, and she would let them in when she was ready.

"Any walk ins while we were gone?" He inquired casually as he took his coat off. He made of a show of feeling for the hanger on the wall.

"Nope," she said, "…Although someone of interest did pay us a visit."

He raised his brow, Foggy raised both brows. Matt already knew exactly who had wandered into Nelson & Murdock and stayed for close to forty minutes, sitting across from Karen at her desk. _Had a glass of water too._

"How intriguing, do elaborate," said Fog cheerfully.

"A Detective Knight," she tapped on the business card on her desk. Foggy and Matt had the same reaction; somewhere between an annoyed groan and a sigh.

Karen snorted; "I take it that you've been acquainted with her."

"She was arresting officer on the Wes Cleon case," Foggy explained. "I swear I heard her refer to lawyers as 'demon spawn' once." Karen was in stitches laughing as Foggy recounted the story.

"What did she want?" He asked, breaking their banter, maintaining what was entirely a façade of mild curiosity.

Karen smile became nonexistent and her laugh lines disappeared, "she asked about Ben."

Foggy asked; "What did you tell her?"

"I told her I kept in contact with him after the Union Allied story, and I worked with him to investigate Fisk. The truth of course," she stated like it was obvious what her answer was supposed to be. He should not have expected anything besides that, but she may have given Knight everything she needed to fully associate them with Daredevil.

"I don't think that was wise," he said, expressing what he knew would be an unpopular opinion.

Foggy scoffed and looked at him over his shoulder, "what are you talking about, man?"

As predicted, Karen rallied with Foggy against Matt, which happened quite often in their firm. "But it's exactly what happened. If I'd impeded her investigation and she found out I was lying, I could wind up in an interrogation room. That is _not_ something I look forward too in the foreseeable future, thank you very much."

He sighed towards the ceiling; "I didn't want to mention it, because I didn't think it'd be a problem... they have a task force dedicated to finding and incarcerating Daredevil."

"Seriously?" She shook her head, "huh, I'm not surprised, especially after Sokovia. But what does the task force have to do with us? And wait, who told you about the task force?" Typical of Karen to dig way too deep into the issue instead of skimming over the surface.

"Mahoney. You've met him," said Fog. Not the whole truth, but Matt reckoned Brett would've mentioned it to them eventually.

"It matters to us because she may believe we have a direct connection to Daredevil," he said. "And let's be clear, each of us have spoken and traded information with him at one point."

Foggy scratched his chin in thought then added; "The man in the mask collared Fisk, and asked us to represent Hoffman, the key prosecuting witness in his trial. Ah the powers of deduction," he tapped his forefinger against his skull, somewhat impressed by how Knight had connected the dots.

"I didn't know this was going to be a problem, because you didn't warn me," Karen pouted, throwing light to the secret he hid and the bruises and scars he was getting less and less adept at hiding from her. How many car accidents and clumsy bumps into cabinets until she totally gave up on him and his lies?

"I'm sorry," he apologised, for more than just not warning her about the task force and their implication with Daredevil. "But I think it should be fine."

"Are you sure?"

And he gave the most unbelievable answer he's ever given her; "Yeah… swell."

Foggy made an excuse to talk to him alone and directed him into his office. The door clicked shut; _and the roast starts in 3…2…_

"'Swell'? Really, Matty? I don't have super senses, but even I could smell the bullshit in that remark."

He was already falling into agitated pacing in the middle of the office; "We should press charges."

He held his hands out to stop him, "whoa, what? Is that necessary?"

He rested his knuckles on the desk, wishing he could punch through it. She had come inside their sanctuary, she was getting too close for him to not take action. _Bring the fight to her, go her superiors, make them make her sto_ p.

"You're pissed, but just back up a few steps here. You're worried that Knight has been snooping around too much and she's onto us. But she has nothing."

"I told myself that too. I thought I had it handled. And then next thing you know she's on our doorstep, asking Karen questions about Ben, making the connections we should've taken precautions against, but didn't."

Foggy washed his hand over his face, as his forehead started to sweat with the stress. "I should talk to Brett. That means another visit to the Cuban cigar store, I think I swing a discount this time around—"

He was quick to disagree; "No, not Brett. Definitely not Brett. We can't trust him."

"Why not?"

"He might've been the one who tipped Knight off in the first place."

"That's plausible. That also sucks if he did. Goddamit," he struck the air with his fist. They could have lost one of their most valuable allies. "Why would he do that?"

"Who's side would you be on, if you were him? The solicitor who bribes his mom with cigars or the fellow police officer you've been on the front lines with for half a decade?"

His best friend studied him, forehead in a stiff crease the same way it was when he discovered his secret after the fight wit Nobu. "Doing this, would be like using a gallon of water to put out a candle, Matt. You're not usually this savage. I mean, don't get me wrong though, occasionally I like it, but it's not you…it's the other guy."

Foggy was not smiling by the end of that sentiment. Matt chewed his lip, not trusting himself to discuss his Daredevil persona any more than he had too then, because a part of him knew that Foggy was right. "It's not," he hastily glazed over it before he could be analysed by his best friend. "We'll talk to her captain and he'll talk to her, that should be enough."

* * *

Humphrey called her into his office, which was never a good sign. He was standing behind his desk, massaging his temples anxiously. She must have done something to piss him off, that was the usual reasoning behind any office call involving her these days.

"They're threatening to press charges!" He burst before the door closed behind her, flinging his hand out to her.

"I'm sorry sir, I don't follow," she replied blandly, hands in pockets. Whenever she was being shouted at, she'd learned to tune the other person out and keep a straight face.

"Nelson and Murdock," he flattened both palms on his desk and leaned forward for emphasis. "One of the partners calls me up, _dares_ to tell me that one of my officers went to their firm inquiring about Wilson Fisk. Now, they have the gall to threaten to press harassment charges on the station."

That broke her nonchalance, "that's little steep, don't you think?" Or more like a little low. All she had done was ask a few questions about a deceased journalist, but they choose to jump the gun and dive head first into a legal battle with the precinct just for the sake of it? She had clearly crossed a line in Murdock's book and this was how he was retaliating; by getting her in a shit ton of trouble.

But for the Captain, everything was still her fault; "my damn question is what the hell were you doing there in the first place? Asking after Wilson Fisk?"

"He murdered Ben Urich, and there were holes in the case because of previous discrepancies in this station. I was following a lead on behalf of the anti-vigilante task force."

"It doesn't matter! You made the inquiry off the record; you went there under false pretenses! You made a bald-faced lie to a pair of defence attorneys! For God's sake, Knight. Why is there always a problem with you? Don't you know how to follow orders?"

"It was a necessary risk, Ben Urich's murder is going unsolved-"

"Your job is to follow orders not to take risks!" He stabbed a finger at her. "Valentine doesn't need you holding his hand when it comes to smoking out the vigilante, and neither should you need someone babying you. If you would stop doing everyone else's job for them, maybe you would actually make some progress eliminating the plague of drug-trafficking in this neighborhood."

Riley honestly had no retort or explanation for her actions, nothing she could muster in that moment to sate her boss.

"Hand the task force over to your second. Take the rest of the month off." He either genuinely thought she deserved a break or he was trying on a different sense of humor.

Humphrey was not a sympathetic man and he had the sense of humor of a broom. So his offer for a two week holiday took her by surprise; "I don't need time off."

"I think you do," there was no way he could have made that sound any less patronizing. "Valentine's expressed concern for your well-being. The Knight I was acquainted with before becoming Captain would never have done something this reckless."

 _Mental well being, he means_. At the very least he did not attach 'no pay suspended leave' to the end of that sentence, or 'mandatory appointments with a therapist' _._ Alfie had some explaining to do. She opened her mouth when he held up his hand, "that's the last I want to hear of it Knight, understood?"

Like swallowing acid she stopped the instinct to scream; "Yes."

He was not expecting her sudden sobriety, "Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

...

Outside the office, Alfie was leaning on the wall across from her. "Humphrey brought you up to speed," she said, disgruntled. The last time she saw him this mad at her was after the meeting to capture Daredevil. The reasoning behind the animosity between the friends had not changed since.

"You didn't think it was even a little crucial to tell me what you found?" Alfie made a gesture with his thumb and forefinger. "Why are you keeping me in the dark?"

"Oh that's rich," she rolled her eyes, "he put me on leave for the rest of the week because you went and snarked."

"I was only looking out for you."

She hated him for playing that card, she couldn't be truly mad at him just because he was concerned about her well-being. She threw him a dirty look instead; "You're an asshole."

"You'll thank me later." Riley headed for the the lobby when Alfie got in her path, "Hey, we're not done."

"What else is there?"

"You have to ask? A connection between Nelson & Murdock, Ben Urich and Fisk to Daredevil? How did you even come up with that quadruplet?"

"I don't know," she folded her arms barely able to contain the exhaled scream she had not unleashed in the captain's office. He knew she had a short temper and Alfie was pushing all the wrong buttons. "Could possibly be complete bullshit, now that I look at it. Conjecture that'll get us nowhere."

"Jesus, Riles. Is that all you have to say?"

"What? What do you want me to say, Alf?" She snapped.

"I want an explanation."

They were gaining a few gazes then. _So he_ _wants to do this now._ She nudged him through the back door into the thankfully empty car park.

"Yes, I've been tackling this on my own. Why? Because no one, not even _you_ believed me when I told you Daredevil never murdered those men on the docks." She nearly shoved his shoulder, her words lashing. "How do you think it fucking feels coming from your best friend?"

Alfie retreated a step from her as if she'd taken a swing at him. "Riles, I'm sorry," he said, placating. "If you feel like you're on your own—"

"You haven't been listening to me!"

"Because despite everything, you've forgotten!"

"I haven't forgotten!"

"Really? Because I thought we were on the same page."

"We are. Don't tell me that I've forgotten who's side I'm on, that's not fair. I'm still here for the same reason as you," she said with vehemence. "But Daredevil is not a killer."

"He's never killed anyone that we know of," he asserted. "Besides, I don't actually care if he has or not. You've seen the mess heroes have made in the rest of the world, and I'm not going to let that batshit crazy spill into Hell's Kitchen. They're not Gods, or good, or evil, they're people. They are not above the law."

"I know that," the air hissed between her teeth, "I don't idolize the guy if that's what you're implying."

"Thank God for that," he said sarcastically. "But what I can't wrap my mind around is why you're intent on working against me? Why hide and lie, risk your job with misconduct? When you could just tell me what the freaking hell is going on with you!"

To be fair, Riley did not wholly understand the rationality behind her actions either. Only because she was avoiding the truth. As cloudless as the sky was that day, she found some clarity. Arguing with Alfie was what led her to it.

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eye sockets, spinning away from him, breathing in deeply and holding the breath, only letting it go when she faced him again.

When she spoke, all the anger was gone.

"I needed to find him on my own, for myself, to prove to myself that we haven't failed."

"What?"

Daredevil's speech replayed in her mind, she didn't feel like she was being a mouthpiece for the vigilante, blathering and promoting his insane code, but his perspective helped make sense of her own intentions. "The system failed me and not for the first time. The vigilante is the embodiment of everything we can't do. Me and you are stuck in the glare of the media, the DA, the government, the public. I wanted to collar him, because I wanted to feel like we could still enforce the law."

She folded her arms, hating this feeling of insecurity and weakness that followed her like a black dog ever since. "After Fisk, I had to pause life and question it all, why I was even here."

His eyes softened, but she did not meet them, his kindness was too much for her to handle without falling to pieces; "You deserve to be here, you are an exceptional detective. No one can take that away from you, Riles."

 _No one can, but I could lose it all by making the wrong decisions._ "But Humphrey's right. I'm stepping on toes and being lax on my own responsibilities and that's not helping anyone. The anti-vigilante task force is yours, I'll turn over all the evidence to you. I should make full use of this break." With that she headed for the door.

"Hey, hey don't just walk off like that," he called. "You've been more honest to me in those two minutes than you have the last four months."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. Riley could have told him everything then, from the emotional turmoil she was going through because of her brother, what she did at the church for him, to the run-ins with Daredevil. _The run-ins where I practically let him go free._ Alfie was her best friend, he would understand… but he also might not.

If she had accepted religion into her life, maybe she would have faith in him, but in the end, she had neither.

"I have to go."

* * *

He positioned himself to bump into Detective Knight on her way back from the pantry with a cup of coffee. She almost spilt the entire cup on him.

"Whoa! Would you watch where you're—" her teeth clamped together, "Murdock."

His eyebrows furrowed behind his glasses, tilting his chin slightly with innocent confusion.

"Why are you always getting in my way?" She said under her breath. The claws were coming out and she'd hardly been in his presence for more than ten seconds. She didn't waste time addressing the elephant in the room; "Fair play calling my Captain on me, though a teensy bit exaggerated on your part, don't you think?"

"Detective Knight?" He asked when she didn't attempt to apologise for lack of an introduction. It took a lot for someone to be impolite to a blind man, that meant Matt must've really pissed her off. "There are worse harassment charges out there to face. Just be glad it was only a suggestion and not anything substantial."

"From the way you reacted it makes me wonder if you have something to hide," she retorted, eyes narrowed to slits. Even if she was putting up a front, he could tell that his visit to her home last night had rattled her. The fear was in the fragile movements only he could detect; the tense gulps, shaky fingers handling the coffee machine, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, dark and fast, as if her flight or fight response had been switched to a tonic 'on'.

And because Matt was Matt, he felt guilty for it.

"Don't cross my turf without my permission. Simple as that."

She pointed at him, "You slipped up at the hospital and I think someone as clever as you knows exactly what I'm talking about." The detective was eyeing him head to toe with diamond hard scrutiny like she had after he butted into her conversation with Wes Cleon.

There had been some sweat under his collar then like there was now, and it wasn't because of the heat. The stitches woven into the skin of his arm reminded him off how close she had gotten to putting a bullet in him.

He laughed acerbically, "is that why you made a terrible show of asking me out yesterday? It was charming, but clumsy, and poorly timed."

She scoffed, making a disgusted noise, "don't flatter yourself, Murdock."

"Just don't break the rules. Because I know them better than you," he said, low, the vigilante voice almost emerging.

Her free hand was in a ball, fingernails digging into her palm. "This isn't over."

He did not doubt that for a second, but at this stage in the game, it was.

He gripped his cane with both hands, the humour drained from his face. "Come to my office again, without a warrant or a subpoena or anything that doesn't sound like total bullshit, and I'll make do on those harassment charges. Yeah, this is over."

He swung his cane and walked away.

He didn't need to use any of his senses to know he had just made an enemy.

* * *

Finally, she had the chance to visit her brother. It would be the perfect distraction from her trials at work and a particular blind lawyer, whose neck she wanted to curl her fingers around until he stopped thrashing. ' _Liar' is written all over his face, in every word from his mouth._

The clues were too striking for her to simply drop the whole case all together. She had to find a way to be more subtle. Her numerous theories had boiled down to one that made the most sense to her; Murdock knows Daredevil's true identity.

Aside from looking after Tommy, the time off would be spent getting to the bottom of the enigma that was Matt Murdock. Not for the anti-vigilante task force, which she swore to leave to Alfie, but to end the persistent nagging feeling in the back of her mind.

She bought Tommy his favourite steak sandwich for dinner. A small step to making amends for leaving him to sober up on his own for the past few months. Amy's death had preoccupied her, she had to admit it. She forgot that there were real people, still alive who needed her guidance and support. She owed him an apology, not a lecture.

Leaning on the nurse's desk, she saw a woman of similar height to her with shoulder length brown hair. She recognized her and halted. It was too late for her to turn around and leave and pretend she was never there once their eyes met.

"Mom."

"You've been avoiding me—Riley," her mother grabbed her arm when she tried to leave.

"You're here to see Tommy." She shrugged off her mother's hand.

"And you," her mother protested, melting through the indifferent attitude she had carefully crafted to use around her mother. "I haven't seen you since you were discharged. You don't visit, you don't call."

"I've been busy. You've seen the news."

Her gaze was filled with sickening pity; "your friend, Annie. I'm so sorry."

"Amy," she corrected, holding her temper.

"She... seemed like a wonderful person. She was your dearest friend, she will be missed. You must have been in so much pain."

Riley had no patience to listen to a string of false platitudes from a woman who did not know her at all. "If you're going to ask me if I'm okay or whatever, I am. Besides, I'm here for Tommy."

"We are both here for him."

"Well, he doesn't want to see you."

"Can't you convince him?"

Riley was too tired to fight with her and she did not want to cause a scene in public.

"He doesn't listen to me," she ground out.

"You haven't tried, why does he think pushing me away is what's beneficial for him?"

The cutting remark slipped from her lips before she could stop herself; "because it is."

Her mother's brows furled, "don't you start. I've been here less than ten minutes-"

"You being here just re-opens old scars. And that's on you."

"I was by your side day and night when you were in a coma," said her mother, eyes flashing, fists in balls by her sides. "I saw more of you while you were asleep than I do now. But both of you treat me like a passing acquaintance. We have to talk this out like adults, Riles."

"Not now, please, it's been a long day." With a passing tick of annoyance she ignored the fact that she had used her nickname on her.

Riley knew that speaking her mind nowadays usually landed her in unwanted confrontations. Her mother took the wall she put up as a sign that she was upset, and an opening to embrace her; "I love you, hey," she held onto Riley's arm again before she could weave out of her reach. "I love you," she repeated, slower, deliberately to prove her point. "I made mistakes, but I fought for you, and I will always keep fighting for you."

"Not for me." An icy mirage radiated off of her, scaldingly cold that her mother released her. Dismayed, with a hard look she sorely accepted that this was not the day she would win back her children's forgiveness.

Being older than Tommy, meant he had the priority over her when they were in foster care after mum's last boyfriend smashed Riley's cheek bone. Their mother fought to keep Tommy, strived to ensure his complete happiness. Yet the system failed to recognise how badly Riley was taking the separation from her little brother. They told her; 'you're not a kid anymore', no one wanted her, no one cared for her or wanted what was best for her.

That was a lifetime ago, and she was standing on her own two feet now, but the hurt she felt in the past crawled inside of her, making its presence known.

Some wrongs were harder to forgive than others.

Her mother tried to appeal one last time; "Riley—"

She shouldered past her; "I'll talk to him, but that's it."

* * *

"We should save the cobbler for Foggy, it's his favourite," Karen stood from the chair and wrapped the dish in aluminium foil. Lately, their clients had been paying them in deserts and baskets of fruit. Being the good guy and angel to the downtrodden didn't exactly pay well.

But as long as they were keeping their head above water, Matt knew they could pull through this bout of 'total bankruptcy' as Karen put it. Yes, it was overly optimistic, especially for him. It was odd. Being this positive about life. Getting Detective Knight off their backs had eased him into a calm, even if it would be short-lived, at least his affairs as a defence attorney were not in jeopardy.

It was late in the evening, and he and Karen were finishing paperwork. When she returned from the pantry, she arranged binders on the conference table across from him. They worked in comfortable silence, both occupied by their own thought processes. He paused when he could tell she had been perturbed by something. This was not the usual unease he heard in her heartbeat, as her fingers were quivering as they leafed through the papers.

"You're quiet tonight."

From the way her neck snapped to look at him, she had been deep in thought; "Oh yeah. I was just—" she cleared her throat, before it sounded like tumbling gravel, "I was just thinking, about that detective."

"She won't be bothering us anymore, Karen."

"I know." She stayed quiet for a few seconds, thinking, "but are we really safe? I don't know if she even cared about what happened to Ben or if she only asked those questions to put us under the spotlight, but she seems...resilient. I mean, what if she's shared what she suspects with others? If Daredevil really has been on a killing spree these past few weeks, we might have been suspected as accomplices in murder."

"But he didn't kill anyone."

"If it wasn't Daredevil, then who?"

Both Matt Murdock and Daredevil had no answer to that one. "I don't know, it could be anyone." _And I don't even know where to begin tracking whoever's framing me._

"That's what I'm trying to get at," she argued. "Believe me, I support Daredevil and everything he did to take down Fisk. But his vigilantism, him showing the middle finger to the law, has opened a pathway for others to imitate him. Others that even Daredevil can't control."

"They shouldn't be allowed to decides who dies. They have to be stopped."

She breathed out and stared out the window, spinning her pen in her fingers, pensive.

"Do they?"

He was caught off guard by her words. At best, Karen was tired, after all, it had been a long hot day... at worst, she was altogether nonchalant about the killing, encouraged it even.

Why would she agree to such violence?

Unless-he dared not acknowledge it- this was her true nature. Matt shook his head, Karen was a shining light in the madness of his world, something else must have happened during the Knight's visit that he did not know of.

 _Come on Matt, it's_ _Karen for crying out loud. "_ Did something else happen? When that detective dropped by?"

She looked at him, bemused by his question.

Her flippant "no," clashed with the recalibration of her heartbeat when she lied to him.

* * *

The hospital was a monochrome of white on white. Without hesitating, Riley knocked on Tommy's door, his face turned towards her when she entered, he rubbed his eyes, yawning.

"Hey, were you asleep?" He was not chasing her out like last time, a good start.

"Yeah, I haven't moved my ass in days but I'm still exhausted," he stretched his legs and rolled out the kinks in his neck. "Anyway, here's the latest news: guess who tried to break into my room."

If anything could bring the two siblings together it was their mutual dislike for their mother. "She really wants to see you and she won't leave until she does."

"You're defending mom?" He frowned warily, "she put you up to this?"

Riley shrugged one shoulder, "sort of."

"Tell her no." She looked at him more closely to confirm and he reiterated, " _no._ "

She plopped into the visitor's chair, relaxing her shoulders, she wasn't going to push it any further than this. "Okay, I will. But eventually you will see her, she'll find a way, she always does. You have to appreciate the fact that's she trying." Though knowing that woman's track record Riley was skeptical.

"I can appreciate it from afar. Please, the nurses give me enough of a headache as it is, I don't need mom to add to the mix."

She snickered, typical Knight fashion to cause trouble wherever they went, even buckled down to a hospital bed with broken ribs; "the nurses are only giving you a hard time because you're a smartass." She held up a finger, "correction; you think you're smartass when you're just a pain in the ass."

Tommy reached for a cup of jello on the food tray beside him, Riley walked over and offered him the spoon which was out of his reach.

"I do test their patience, Gale seems to have it in for me."

 _Only because she's been there for every single mishap you've had, and every ER stint, as a favour to me._ She pinched his cheek lightly, partly to test if the skin would blanch and redden, partly to annoy him. Both were accomplished.

"At least you're not as pasty as you were before, you look better now."

Tommy swatted her hand aside with a ruffled look, "duh, hospital threads or not, I'm still the better looking sibling, there's no denying that."

Riley rolled her eyes. With her brother in a hospital, their estranged mother in the hall, her job on the line, she almost overlooked the little smile she playing on her lips.

* * *

Daredevil scaled the hospital facade, going downwards. Knight was chatting with her brother, he crouched on the overhang above the window, listening for any calls she might take that could be of use to him. He planned to tail her for a few hours before heading out onto his usual patrol.

Out of habit he listened more closely than he should've. _She loves someone,_ he realised. And it was not her mother in the waiting room downstairs, their strained conversation he'd caught a few seconds of. There was no love there, not the raw kind he knew to exist between a parent and their child.

When people are at peace, their hearts slow, to an infinite serenity. Matt found that in old college days, bantering with Foggy, when his mind and overpowering senses was blurred by the effects of alcohol after celebrating a pass on midterms, or a college event they'd crashed.

He loved Foggy, he was his peace, Knight's brother was hers.

* * *

He was happy to eat the steak sandwich, chat with her about day-day things and comment on whatever was playing on the TV in the room. After he ate, her brother was yawning again. She still had not said sorry, but he was starting to doze off mid-conversation, she chose not ruin the mood.

Riley arranged the covers over his chest and sat in the chair beside him, she rested her head on the wall by the window. It was good to have him around. When they were younger, seeing him on special visits the foster families allowed, playing in the playground and in blanket forts had been the best gift anyone could have given her. _I looked after him, told him everything was going to be ok, he held my hand and told me it would be ok, too._

After months of insomnia, and this perpetual ache in her chest, she could finally shut her eyes and fall into a dreamless sleep.

Her phone woke her up.

"Mmhm.. hello?"

" _Detective Knight?"_ The caller whispered tentatively.

The sleepiness evaporated and Riley was wide awake, "Daria?"

" _Detective Knight—I. I need your help."_ Then she heard the strangled desperation Daria hid beneath hushed tones.

"Just tell me where you are and we can talk."

" _How do I know I can trust you?"_

"You can. I swear. I only want to fix what happened to you, to all of you. We can help each other."

She put up the cool, bitter pretence again; _"bad men said the same thing to me once. I wanted a better life, but I was tricked, they dragged me, forced me to this hell on Earth._ " The desolation in her tone tugged at Riley, making her stand.

"And I want to make them stop doing this to you. Who are they?"

There was no response, but she waited in suspense for her to continue, blowing out air from her mouth in relief when she did.

" _In the beginning it was the Russians."_

"And that night those men who took you, spoke Italian, I remember."

Daria mumbled a curse in a foreign language. _"They have taken over the flesh market. They use the dope the Chinese had, I'm sure of this. But everyone wants a piece of this business, they don't know they can't win…not really."_

"What does that mean?"

Daria was unleashing her loathing and venom towards the monsters that did this to her and totally ignored Riley's question. _"I am glad they were killed. That Daredevil chose to end them."_

"Daria, what did you mean when—"

" _I am afraid for my family."_ Suddenly she was nervous, she could hear her jittery breaths through the line.

"Are they threatening them?"

" _Yes... with death and shame."_

"Daria, tell me where you are. We can talk face to face, it will be safer for you."

" _My family—"_

She was cut off by a scream and the line disconnected.

* * *

Tremors ran through her as she stared at the low lit phone screen, waiting for the moment when Daria would call her back. But that was a fickle illusion, shattered by the woman's piercing scream.

There was no way of reaching her. The only person she could possibly interrogate was Forlow, Daria's abuser from last night, and he was conveniently locked in a cell at the station. She had to hurry. Riley glanced plaintively at her brother one last time before racing out of the room. He deserved better than his family-the only one that actually mattered to him-bailing on him again and again.

But she had to find Daria, failing to do so could be the young woman's death.

She deserved a speeding ticket herself for how wild she was driving in her haste to get to the station. Riley slammed the brakes, however, when the street ahead was blocked by scattered police cars, blue and red lights blinking. She could have reversed the car, gone around the block to avoid it, but she was subconsciously drawn to the scene unfolding.

She wished for this to be unrelated, a waste of her time, then she would grumble an excuse to leave and continue on her merry way to the station.

 _This is nothing, just your average 911, this is someone else's problem._ She pushed through the crowd that gathered and looked around, picking out a few familiar faces, her mantra drowning out the dull pounding in her ears. When she reached the gate of the apartment block, police tape sectioned it off, an officer she knew was shooing bystander's away.

It took all of thirty seconds for her to reach the officer, show her badge and gain access beyond the tape. Closer and closer, with long swinging strides she zigzagged between the uniforms and the forensics that were hopping out of a white van and carrying their equipment cases towards the crime scene. She was briefly distracted by retching noises made by a plainclothes detective bent over on the grass. The puking detective was none other than Frank Sinjon.

She bumped past two more people to see what had made him sick.

And stopped in her tracks when she did.

On the ground was a severed head, white as chalk, blood from the sinews in its neck was slick and dark, it's eyes were two big circles, captured forever in the terror of it it's final moments before it's decapitation.

It couldn't be real. It didn't look real.

It wasn't real until she recognised that the head belonged to Daria.

* * *

 **A/N: so so sorry for such a late update, busy semester in college! Please forgive any grammatical errors, I wanted to get this out ASAP. Thank you so much for the favourites, follows and reviews! It makes me so happy to see that people are interested in my story! See you soon xx**


	6. Chapter 6

She didn't remember when she started walking back towards the car, only that she warned herself not to be sick. She climbed in and slammed the door. Her hands were clamped on the steering wheel. Growling through her teeth, she pulled on it, shook it, trying to pry it off it's hinges in bursts of rage.

She stopped herself and folded her arms into a nest to rest her head on, biting the inside of her cheek. The same painful reminder of reality stuck on repeat in her head;

 _I couldn't save her, I couldn't save her, I couldn't save her…_

Riley pounded her fists on the steering wheel one last time, flung the car door open and stormed back to the crime scene to find Sinjon.

In recovery from losing his lunch on the patio, he was patting his forehead with a handkerchief, directing CSI to cover the perimeter around the decapitated head with a partition as the crowd outside the police tape started to swell.

"What are you doing here?" He was clearly unhappy to see her. "I heard you were laid off."

"I need to talk to you, it's important."

Thankfully Frank did not ask her to explain herself as she was a second from several cutthroat remarks taunting his poor gag reflex. He followed her a couple of paces from the CSI team.

She lowered her volume; "I was the last person the vic talked too before she died."

"Why would she talk to you?"

"I should've told you this sooner." After he listened to her explanation on Forlow and the phone call, Frank's expression darkened from the scorn he usually had for her to a dire look that put her on edge.

"I knew she was back on the streets."

Before she could consider her own part in her death, she snapped; "You knew, and you didn't do anything about it?"

"I did as much as you did, Knight." She cringed, _I did nothing, she's dead because I didn't try harder to save her_. "She didn't die here," Riley changed the subject, "The rest of her body is elsewhere."

"Or it could be in the bottom of the Hudson for all we know."

"Did they release Forlow?"

"Two hours ago, but he could still be in the city, the man wasn't charged for anything, no point holding him." Daria had said that Forlow wanted her to keep quiet about a secret. But because he'd _punched her_ she did not keep her word. The secrets died with her instead.

Frank said; "We always knew the mafia were responsible."

"Except we have a dead girl on our plate now. Not only that, they wouldn't have left her _head_ for us to find, unless she knew something she wasn't supposed too." Riley glanced at the CSI's laying a white sheet over the remains, her stomach flipping over on it self. "They're sending a message, none of them will come forward now, she was the only one brave enough."

"That didn't save her. Puts you and me in a precarious situation too, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, and I quite like the ergonomics of where my head's positioned on my shoulders, thank you very much," she said wryly, even though the mafia was no joking matter. The stories of officers who crossed organised crime gangs were numerous and gruesome. They got creative with their torture methods. _They are animals, they will not spare anyone._

"I've got enough shit going on over here, I don't even know where to start looking for the other three-quarters of her, but if you can find Forlow he should give us what we need to get back on track."

Normally she would've jumped to the opportunity, but she had her orders. "I'm off-duty."

"Therefore you should have nothing else to do but find him."

He was aware of how much she cared for those girls. Riley realised that if Daria was targeted then Magdalena might be next, she didn't believe that they had zero contact with one another, especially after the dock side incident.

"Alright," she agreed, "I'll let you know when I get a hold of him."

* * *

Her first place to look was Forlow's flat. It was empty. On a hook by the door was a coat much smaller than what he, a big muscled man would wear. Riley presumed it belonged to Daria and took it with her.

The place was still in a mess from the night before, but there was no indication that he was packing his bags in a rush to leave town. That meant he did not know of Daria's murder or that he was a suspect. Riley texted Sinjon to get Forlow's image circulating. She decided to return to the station to check if Forlow had any ties to the mafia.

At her car she noticed a piece of paper attached to the wind shield wiper. At first she thought it was a parking ticket, which was laughably the most mundane and ironic thing to happen to her in years. Riley inspected it and saw it was not a parking ticket, but a note with three distinct features: _an address, a name, and a warning._

Her vision zoomed in on two words; DARIA. HURRY.

The drive to the address flew by in seconds, all the while her mind racing with hundreds of questions she couldn't even form properly but was innately aware of their importance.

She pounded up the stairs, gun ready. At the apartment door, she was not a hundred percent certain what she would find on the other side; Daria's body, Daria's killer, _hell for all I know._ She kicked it down and aimed, spine taut, prepared to spring into action.

Riley eyes scanned the floor and surfaces. There was evidence of a woman living here. Old makeup, a discarded lipstick that was similar to the colour Daria wore last night.

Outside the bedroom Riley spotted a leg behind the bed, she treaded towards it. An image of what she could possibly find in the next few moments flashed in her mind, _headless bodies, that's new._

To her great relief, but also disappointment, it was not Daria.

Instead, it was a girl, no more than 20, lying in pool of blood from a gun shot wound in her torso.

She was so still, she had to be dead. Dreading the cold touch of a dead body, Riley hesitated for a fraction of a second before holstering her gun and crouching beside her.

With her attention focused on reaching for the girl's radial pulse, she did not notice her eyes fluttering open, unfocused. Or when, with her last fighting spirit, she weakly grasped the knife in her right hand that was out of Riley's view beneath the bed.

Just in time, Riley leapt back on her hunches, feeling the blade whirr through the air in front of her nose.

"Stop, stop I'm not here to harm you," she showed her hands, "I just want to help."

She frowned at Riley, unable to recognise who she was, "Who…?" Her eyes swelled with pain and her head fell back. There was blood splatter on the window sill that trailed to where she lied, _she was escaping her own attacker_.

Riley removed the knife and knelt next to her. She pressed on the wound, the blood was slick but not too cold yet, around the temperature of tepid water. The pressure elicited a wet moan from her. "Stay with me, it's gonna be okay. I'm Detective Knight. What's your name?"

"Susan," she said or at least that's what she thought she said when her words were drowned by a gurgling noise she made. She dug in her pocket for the note with Daria's name and the address, her fingers sticking and staining the paper with pink fingerprints.

"Did you leave me this note?"

The girl shook her head. Riley called for an ambulance. _If not her, then who? It couldn't be Daredevil, he would not wait for me to get to Susan, he would already be here on his own._

"How did you know Daria?" She asked afterwards, she had to get as much out of her as possible, before the paramedics arrived.

"Who?"

"The girl you lived here with. Blonde, blue eyes, she was a hooker."

She blinked slowly in recognition, "Meredith…"

"Yes. What was she to you?"

Talking was torture for her, Riley had to pick her questions carefully before she blacked out again, or possibly die from the blood loss.

"She was… helping me…" murmured Susan. How exactly was not important.

"Who shot you?"

"I don't know…some… fuck who was using me to get to her," the last ounce of energy she had was used to let out the curse.

"Who would want her dead?"

No reply, instead more blood frothed on her lips.

The front knob was jostled from outside. _Someone is trying to break in_. They were soon going to find out the door had already been busted open when Riley first came.

She heard the front door kick open.

"Help is coming, ok?" She whispered hurriedly, folding Susan's own hands over the wound, just as she had done for Wes Cleon. Riley was getting sick of cradling kids in her arms who were on the brink of death.

"I just need you to stay quiet for me, while I catch whoever's here for you."

She tossed a blanket over Susan to keep her warm and hide her. She treaded quietly to the closet in the hall to hide. This could be Daria's murderer, even Susan's attempted murderer. The second she could figure out why they were breaking in, she would arrest them.

She heard furniture being moved and grunts, it was one person. As they passed the hallway, Riley slowly eased the closet door wider, however it was balancing a box on the shelf above it. The box toppled to the ground, with enough noise to set the intruder jumping into the air and bolting out the front door.

"Hey!" She started into a dead sprint after him. On the pavement, he made a detour into the alley and into another tenement building. Up the stairs, on the landing above her, he held a vase and flung it at her, it narrowly missed her temple. She ducked again when a wooden chair flew over her head.

With nothing else to throw, he dashed off again. Down the hallway, there was a man moving a heavy-looking sofa out of his apartment, the intruder knocked into him and the sofa almost crushed him. She yelled, "NYPD!" But he either did not care or did not hear her.

The intruder ran into the open apartment. He swung his leg onto the balcony. She almost had him. He leapt to the next-door balcony and propelled himself downwards to the fire escape.

She had learnt from her mistakes after chasing Daredevil, and was able to gain enough air to cling to the balcony without losing her grip. The intruder released his hold eight feet below her, the darkness of the night not giving much light to his features. He landed in a dumpster and Riley was close second behind as he climbed out.

Her head was spinning, but she grabbed his foot, causing him to tip over, his face smacked the gravel, hard.

With the intruder groaning in the dirt, she hopped out after him. As he tried to stand she kicked him in the ribs to roll him over. "Fuck!" He protested.

They were in a closed off area between tenement buildings, with only one way out. He scrambled to his feet, she clutched her chest catching her breath.

"Son of a bitch," she glared at him. "What were you doing back there?"

"Investigating, looking for clues, same as you," he glared back at her defiantly. He had a thick neck, and what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle. "What the fuck were you doing, hiding behind a corpse?"

"I am a police officer, I ask the questions here," he cowered when she intimidated him with a fearless gaze. How did he even knew of a murder this recent? Where the coroner probably had not even started processing the remains?

"You're looking for Forlow, right? My employer wants a few words with him too."

"And who would that be?"

"I can't tell you, it's confidential, detective. You understand."

"Nope, I can't say that I do. Who are you?"

"I'm a private investigator, Gardner. We're on the same side here, detective," he said, raising his hands, trying to wheedle into her good graces, failing miserably however.

It was likely Gardner had been hired by the mafia to make sure there were no lose ends in Daria murder. "I doubt that. You're coming with me."

Except he did not cooperate, she took a step forward, he took one back. "This doesn't have to be difficult."

Riley reached for her handcuffs; "That's up to you, isn't it? Get on the ground!"

"This could have been easy," Gardner was still too overly confident.

"I don't have time for this. Get on the ground, or I will make you!"

"I don't think so."

She barely noticed the twitch of a smile on his lips when something struck the side of her head, her vision exploded with white light.

* * *

After Matt listened to the phone call Knight received, the blood-curdling scream at the end of it, he scoured Hell's Kitchen for Daria.

But it was tactless, he had nothing to go on but a scream, the hope that he could capture a split second of the sound of her struggles somewhere in his dark city.

His search was futile when he heard the reports over the police scanner.

He stood on a spur of a building, he could smell the metallic tang of blood through the cement, hear an ambulance and paramedics parking five stories below. _What happened here?_

The radius of the neighbouring buildings entered his mind's landscape. There were tires screeching two streets away, two men in the vehicle, heading north. He ran to it.

That's when he found her.

The detective was alive but unconscious. Breathing softly, she could almost be asleep, if it wasn't for the dirty alley. From afar he could not sense any severe injuries. He landed on the ground and approached her, the last time he had come this close, he had his fingers wrapped around her throat, threatening her with death.

A threat he knew he could not deliver.

Nevertheless, he crouched beside her head and shook her shoulder. Her breathing changed as she started to wake, groaning. He retreated as her eyes fluttered open to see him standing ten feet from her.

"Detective, you looked so peaceful lying there, the job tire you out already?"

Knight panicked, and her hand immediately clutched her gun. Matt's breath hitched in his throat.

Slowly, slowly, she moved her palm to the ground and pushed herself upright. "Don't try humour with your act, it doesn't work."

As she stood she hissed and held her wrist. He could hear the tiny tears in the ligament, like bristles of a torn rope brushing against one another.

"Your wrist is sprained, just below the scaphoid bone."

"How can you tell?" She asked, taken aback by the specificity of his observation.

"They went north," he told her instead, referring to the thugs that knocked her out.

"You chased my best computer tech out of the city." Knight was massaging her wrist, her glare burning through his mask.

"Necessary measures."

"To protect yourself," she retorted.

She was still not moving to attack him; "You're not shooting at me."

"Aw, don't worry, we'll return to our usual routine soon enough," she mock-pouted, "but you're not my priority tonight."

She circled around, putting as much distance between them as she could. He mirrored her movements. She watched him like an eagle. She stopped when her back was facing the street to leave.

"I know what happened, when she spoke to you," said Matt. He had been devastated when she dropped the reality check on him. He felt she should know he had not left this mission behind.

"I tried to find her but I couldn't, I was too late."

"We all were," she was solemn as a gravestone. "I don't know how you know the things you do, but I can't let anyone else die on my watch."

Matt was all too familiar with the hero speech. The roaring in his throat, in the back of his brain, the fire burning in his heart, when he'd told it to Claire or Foggy.

She took out her small notepad and scrawled something on it. "What are you writing?"

"Magdalena's last known address for you."

She was one of the girls from the dock, _who also went back into prostitution_. "I remember her, but why are you giving this to me?"

She ripped the page out. "Those 'private investigators', who bashed my head, knew about Daria's death, given it happened less than two hours ago, they must have someone on the inside. They were hired to investigate it, and I doubt justice for her death is their goal. We're both looking for the same man, Forlow," explained Knight and held the piece of paper out for him to go get from her.

"If Daria had contact with Magdalena she might be in danger too."

He took one step forward, and another, closing the distance until they were both holding opposite edges of the paper, thumbs an inch from touching.

"You want me to find her."

"While I chase suspects."

They both did not let go, Knight's fingers were clamped onto it like a vice. Her tone was frigid but to the point;

"Let me be clear; this doesn't make us partners. I'm asking you as a favour on her behalf because we both failed her."

"Doesn't this mean you're working outside of the law?"

She almost reconsidered, instead her jaw clenched; "I will make an exception."

He nodded once, "Okay."

She let go, and Matt dropped his hand, holding the paper tight in his fist. Knight would rather lose a limb than admit that she had just asked for help from 'vigilante scum'.

"Let me know when she's safe."

* * *

Her hands were shaking.

She stared at them in her lap. She had a long list of misgivings when it came to Daredevil, and they dawned upon her then like a dark cloud.

Riley swallowed those doubts and took out the first aid kit from the glove compartment. A bandage to wrap her wrist and an ice pack to reduce the inflammation on her head. She cursed who ever sneak attacked her. A concussion at this time would be a triviality.

Once this was over, she promised herself she would sleep for a week.

She started the engine. This was not the time to question her judgement. There was an omnipresent 24 hour timer to solve Daria's murder. She had to accept the choices she made, and move on.

She entered the lobby of Forlow's apartment. As she passed Mr. Bernard's door she heard sobbing.

"Enough, alright! Shut it!" Bernard scolded, but that did not cease the crying.

The door was a crack open, another blaring feature was the giant smudgy footprint on it that was not there last night.

She knocked on Bernard's door.

There was louder mumbling and shushing. "Who is it?" The old man called.

"Detective Knight."

He swung the door wider, wiping sweat the from his brow, for a moment he was fraught, but it easily vanished. "Baba O'Riley aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" He was over-the-top boisterous, she thought he would wake the whole apartment block. "If I'd known you were visiting I would've spruced up."

"Bernard," she stated sternly, not having any of it. "Why is your son crying?" She was taller and stood on her tiptoes to see the kid on the couch, his brown eyes glazed with tears. "Why is—" fear flashed in Bernard's eyes for a millisecond.

Using the heel of her hand she pushed the door wider to look inside, while he simultaneously tried to close it on her.

"What the hell happened?"

The table lamp in the entrance hall was shattered, coffee table overturned in the living room, missing a leg.

"Were you robbed?"

"What? Oh no, no nothing of the sort, really Knight it's no bother," he said, breezily, waving a carefree hand through the air. He tried to change the subject. "Are you going up to Forlow's?"

"Maybe. But I'm a lot more interested in what happened here."

"Just an accident when Robbie was playing with his football, is all. Boy's still working on his hand-eye coordination, he won't play outside like a normal kid."

She looked at the coffee table, "Does a football break a table, too?"

"Who knows with that lad, he faffs about and I never see, next thing I know this and that is broken, he gets upset. I tell him not to cry, I can't stand it."

"May I come in and speak to you? A few follow-up questions on Forlow? We're searching the city for him."

The man relaxed a bit, and agreed to let her in. "Ah, alright. Always a pleasure to help the coppers when I can."

"Relax, I'll be out of here in a minute," at the threshold Bernard closed the door behind her. "Did he come home since last night?"

"No, he didn't. Good riddance though, eh? Myself? I slept like a baby."

"You alright, Robbie?" His hair stuck out from his head at floppy angle, he nodded, sniffing.

The time on the wall clock was well past midnight; "It's almost 1am, Bernard. The kid should be in bed, asleep."

"You see that's what I was telling him off about." He cocked his head at Robbie, strolling to him. "Go on lad, get yourself to bed," he gave him a quick, gruff kiss on the top of his head before the boy ran off.

Riley knew nothing about how to discipline a child, indeed, Bernard was a rough around the edges. _But he's miles better than my mother ever was._ She fought a losing battle with alcohol for years before she even tried to sober up...the day her children were taken from her.

"He shouldn't be playing football at this time either. That's quite odd."

"An odd kid, I say he inherited those oddities from me, and those dimples of course," he laughed at his own comment.

"How did this happen?" She gestured to the broken lamp, whilst her eyes skirted over the room.

He cleared his throat when she did not laugh with him, "The football."

"The ball broke the table and hit the lamp?" she patted the side table, "it fell off from here?"

"Quite right." Even when Bernard had a black eye in the back of her squad car after arresting him for a D&D, the man never shut up. He was one of the most annoying people she had ever collared, _now he only manages half sentences?_

The lamp cable was spiralled on the ground, she crouched and picked at it; "Really? But it's not plugged into the socket? What's the point of that?"

"Now, detective, you want to ask me questions about Forlow, or faff about? There's really nothing to solve here," he assured, the steam rising in him.

Along with the bruises and minor injuries she sported, her patience was wearing down too. "This apartment's a goddamn mess, Bernard. These scuff marks at the door tell me there was a struggle or a fight."

"What?" He blurted, feigning ignorance, "You think that's what this is?"

She was on a roll, dissecting the scene; "There's a footprint on the front door too, and your feet don't look a size 13 to me."

"Of all the bloody pointless inquiries you're asking me, you ask after my shoe size?"

"Explain the door then."

"Its rotted through, like everything else in this godforsaken building. I had to kick it to get inside. I'm not bullshitting you, honest."

She gave him a hard stare; "I don't know who or what you're covering up for, but you're definitely lying to me. Therefore we should just skip to the end, before I get mean."

"I tell you, detective it's embarrassing for you to be snooping around my home, and right in front of me as well! Interrogating me for no bloody reason."

"You can start telling me the truth, and I'll be on my way."

"Jesus Christ, what more do you want? I've told you the truth!" He threw his arms out to her as he exclaimed.

"You haven't-" the movement he made loosened the rolled sleeves of his shirt, "and that blood on your sleeve speaks for itself."

He blinked at her, then at his sleeve. He sighed, suddenly a hundred times more exhausted than both of them combined. He rubbed his head and more blood was left on his fingers when he removed it. She gave him a tissue to wipe off the blood, he brushed her off when she offered to check the injury.

"It was one man, he strong-armed me and busted in, screaming about something in Forlow's apartment," he finally explained. "I told him I didn't have anything and he beat me up."

She asked for a description, but it didn't match Gardner. However, it could also be his associate that had helped him escape from her.

"What was he looking for?"

"No idea."

"Why did you keep this from me?"

"He told me that if I ever spoke to anyone, especially-" he gulped, "especially _you_ detective, and if word ever got back to him…" he stifled a look of pain and grief;

"He told me he'd kill my son."

Bernard was trying to hold himself together, but she heard the fear crackle in his throat; "My boy he-he's a boy. I know I'm not much of a father, but I'm trying… and I need him more than he needs me..."

"They won't kill him, they threatened you because they want to make sure I have no leads," she looked him in the eye, "they're afraid of what I will find, but I will get there first and beat them to it. And I won't let them touch your family."

Riley could not do much else for Bernard and Robbie but tell him to keep her on speed dial and get out of town until this settled down.

If ever…

* * *

Running down her usual CI's ate up most of the night. No one knew him, _besides solicitation, he's no known criminal. As far as I can tell he had no motive to kill Daria._

At one point, the time became apparent to her. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. The sky was lightening, midnight blue bleeding into azure on the horizon. It was time to go home.

She parked and reached for her briefcase in the passenger seat. Daria's coat was on the floor. She had completely forgotten about it. "Dammit, Riles, c'mon," she berated.

When she opened her apartment door she half-expected Daredevil to be waiting for her on the coffee table. But he wasn't. _Why did I entrust someone's livelihood in his red-gloved vigilante hands?_ She didn't have much of choice, to her dismay.

There was no way to contact him, unless she climbed to her roof and shouted for him like a damsel in distress. The thought made her cringe at how awkward that would be.

The next yawn nearly tipped her over, she was running on fumes. She drew her curtains to keep her bedroom dark so she could sleep.

Being on suspension, she had nowhere else she needed to be that morning.

* * *

Night was running out. He could feel the first notes of daylight kiss his cheekbone through his mask. In his world on fire they were flushes of egg yolk yellow. He reminisced back to when he could appreciate a sunrise. He was only left with memories of it now.

Magdalena had moved since her last known address and it had taken him longer to find her than he would have been comfortable admitting to the detective.

He couldn't explain why he even cared about her opinion, taking into account all the shit she gave him for being Daredevil.

 _Because even though there's a whole task force out to collar you, you only want to prove to_ her _that you're not the enemy._

Matt swung his legs into Magdalena's room.

She was in the small kitchenette on the other side of the studio flat. She screamed when she saw him and grabbed the knife on the counter. In the early morning lowlight, it took her a moment to recognize the vigilante.

"I am not here to hurt you."

"What the hell are you doing?" She demanded, still pointing the knife.

He stayed where he was. "Did Daria talk to you?

She flicked her hair, her arm never wavering. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"Please don't lie to me," he demanded. "It's imperative that you be honest with me."

"I am not lying to you," she lied. She was not as cooperative as he expected. Matt was not used to this, with the cops usually getting the brunt of the public's hate and mistrust.

"You're in danger, do you believe that?" He asked, unable to keep his voice low. "You have to come with me, so I can take you somewhere safe."

He was met with more resistance. She retreated into the kitchen counter, "I am not going anywhere with you."

He tried a different tactic, he raised his hands. "I'm sorry, I thought everything would be over that night, I thought you were safe, but it never stopped." His tongue felt thick and slippery on the words, as he rephrased what Knight had snarled to him. "I was ignorant. I never understood the consequences, or what I was truly trying to defend this city against. But I know now."

"No, you don't understand. I have to keep doing this. I want too."

Matt was at a loss of what to say next, because she wasn't lying. "No. No, you don't, they want you to believe that you don't have a choice. But this doesn't have to be your life."

"That bitch Daria, wanted to rope me into some scheme she had."

"She's dead now. And you could be next," he warned, relentless. "Don't you want to see the people who killed her be brought be justice? Don't you want justice, at all?"

"You talk like it's easy," she responded spitefully. Magdalena put the knife down carefully, breathing measuredly, and crossing her arms. "I didn't care for her," she shrugged.

"Don't you mourn her?"

"She's dead, because she brought this on herself." She showed two fingers, "Two things I know; first, I don't work for the same people as her. _They_ leave the heads of their enemies on pikes, I know that. That's how they found her. I shut her down before she could get me into any trouble. The second; I wasn't willing to risk my life then, and I sure as hell won't risk it now."

"The police officer who found you can help. You have to trust me on this," he nearly begged. He did not need any more deaths on his conscience. The number had piled up since he started his crusade. As more and more names were added to the list he was starting to forget them. Like charcoal on paper smudged repeatedly, they were fading from his memory.

And that scared him almost as much as unintentionally killing a person did.

She was sickeningly sweet; "honey, the game's changed this time. She's an angel of law, she's gonna arrest me the moment she sets eyes on me."

"She won't," he insisted.

"Get. Out," she hissed, "or are you gonna drag me to that cop? You know who else dragged me? Those men that night, tried to put me in cage, against my will." She smiled ruefully, "But you didn't let them live to see the next day."

Plainly, the conversation was at its end.

"Thank you for that, I guess," said Magdalena.

Without a word he climbed back out the window.

Matt was sick of being thanked for someone else's sins.

* * *

 _Am I in too deep?_ _B_ _ut I have barely touched the surface of this case._ She did not know how much further she could poke the bear before whoever killed Daria…decided she was next. Susan- whom Riley suspected Daria was either grooming for prostitution or was using to get herself out of New York-was in surgery. There was nothing to do but wait.

Riley slept fitfully, every angle she turned felt like there were bugs crawling over her. When she couldn't sleep, and the lump on her skull bothered her, she saw no point being unproductive. She got out of bed and rolled a whiteboard into her living room, she pinned the mystery note she received in the corner, another unanswered question. She started to map out the south of Hell's Kitchen to track Daredevil.

Daria's coat was on the kitchen counter where she left it. Riley put down her marker pen and picked it up; it smelt of cigarettes and perfume.

An idea occurred to her.

It was blatantly obvious what Gardner wanted from Forlow's apartment, why he beat up Bernard.

Riley searched the front pockets. Right. An empty lighter. Left. Her fingers crumpled paper.

Her eyes grew large and she pulled out the contents of the pocket.

It was two photos. They were blurry, both taken in low light on a camera that lacked quality. The first looked like it had been taken from beneath a glass table, she could barely make out three people; a man standing between two women, dressed elegant but sexy. The man's face was obscured by one of the women's hands; most of their bodies and what they wore was opaque due to the glass table over the camera lens.

The second picture was much clearer; an ashtray with small white pills, lines of cocaine beside it.

As low in quality as the images were, Daria had taken them in a hurry, hiding her camera. She kept them on her person, in her coat, because they were valuable to her.

 _But not valuable enough that she remembered them after Forlow's attack._

These are not the only copies. These might not even be the only pictures.

Daria had risked her life to take these pictures.

Daria had died for this.

Riley went to call Frank when she got another call. For a moment she thought it was Daredevil, it wasn't.

But she did find Forlow.

* * *

This time, Riley was ready.

Forlow was at a dive bar. Day-drinking, naturally. _A guilty man would run._ That didn't stop her from sneaking up on him and slamming his head into the bar, reciting his rights.

"You bitch—"

"-Anything you say could be used against you in a court of law, just remember that, before you say something stupid," she sneered into his ear as she handcuffed him.

"I didn't kill her!" Forlow snarled, soon after, his anger ringing loud in the interrogation room.

"Why were you arguing?" She replied, calm as still water.

The red blotchiness of his face reduced as he reigned in his rage, he had serious anger management issues. "She was trying to blackmail me."

"Why?"

"Look detective, it's not rocket science." She ignored his condescending tone, _he's ready to burst, let him talk_. "I work a 9 to 5 job as a desk clerk. The usual girl I get couldn't make it, so this whore shows up instead, and I wasn't even told beforehand. Now, Karla, lets me pay on credit, we have an understanding, alright? But Meredith—"

"Daria."

"Whatever the hell her name is—I was angry," his cuffs jangled softly when he moved them, which irritated him further.

He seemed like the kind of man to blame every misfortune that happened to him on the rest of the world. Her mother had dated plenty of men cut from the same cloth, though they hid their rotten insides with pretty smiles and endless charm.

"It was pent up from _weeks and weeks_ , and I had a lot to drink, and she just didn't get it okay? She didn't. So I got pissed, so I hit her. Then she comes shrieking that she knows where I work, and was going to ruin my life. I couldn't let that go. And she was fighting me, clawing at my face, she was insane."

 _You_ did _hit her first_. The officer outside the door entered and laid a report next to her elbow, she skim read it quickly, letting Forlow sweat, keeping him in suspense.

"Is that your testimony?" Said Riley, disinterested. "Do you have anything more to add?"

"You don't believe me?" The glimmer of anger returned to his eyes, "You keep throwing shit my way, I will—"

"Get a lawyer?" She broke in; she'd gone back and forth with this script against hundreds of crooks in her career. "Keep your money, Mr. Forlow, you can go."

The scowl fell off his face, replaced with startled confusion.

When he didn't make a move she barked; "Before I change my goddamn mind."

The officer escorted him out and that was the last she ever wanted to see of him.

This case was not clean cut. They never were. Forlow did not kill Daria. He had motive but also an alibi. The file given to her was the coroner's report with the time of death. She had to pull a few favors to get it. But it gave him an alibi. A CI-a hooker whom Forlow hired last night at the time of Daria's murder- had tipped her off.

Daria wanted out, but had done it on her own, dangerous terms.

* * *

Alfie was someone she could trust. They had their disagreements, but if she continued to push everyone away she was going to be alone forever.

Gardner, and whoever had killed Daria, only wanted her coat, they were at Forlow's apartment and Daria's place for it.

Forlow was never crucial to the case.

She could not shake the feeling that Frank Sinjon had sent her on a wild goose chase...

She found Alfonso Valentine at McCilwaines; the infamous dive bar frequented by Precinct 15 officers and staff. She had not set foot in the bar since Amy's wake. They had played jazz music, made dozens of toasts, sang Irish folks songs raising glasses of smoky, bittersweet bourbons in her memory, salty tears on their cheeks.

The place wasn't packed. Rumors of her suspension had already spread and she avoided everyone's gazes like her life depended on it.

"Alfie, hey!"

He finished ordering from Terry, the wizened bartender who was older than the bar itself. He was surprised; "Riles? Holy crap, what are you doing here?"

She gave him a quick hug, "I have two-week holiday, remember? And I'm getting paid for it."

He winced with guilt; "Riles—"

"Don't sweat it, Alf," she gave a chuckle, patting his shoulder. "I'm actually glad for the time off." _Hardly a day since I was a commanded to go on leave and I'm back on the job._

"That's really good," he smiled. They were on better terms since the chat in the carpark. "What I meant was, considering you're four years sober and boring-" She rolled her eyes, "and I certainly didn't drag you here—what could you possibly be doing in McCilwaines?"

"If I can pull you from your drink for a minute, I need to talk."

"Okay, give me a sec to pay, you find a booth. You want anything?"

"No thanks."

On the way to a booth she received a text message from an unknown number;

 _Room 32_

 _Metro General Hospital_

It did not strike her immediately. But a brutal second later it hit her like a ton of bricks.

 _Tommy's room number._

"Yo, Riles! Where you going?"

Alfie's shout made her gasp. Her voice was taken away for an instant. Her throat constricted as she said, "I have to go. I need to go to Tommy."

On instinct, he scooped his coat into his arm, "Is he alright?"

Her feet had carried her to the door without her even realising it. "That's the thing, I don't know..."

There was no memory of the case, of what she had to tell Alfie, none of the past sixteen hours mattered to her as if they never happened. The pictures Daria took weighed like rocks in her pocket, and she wanted nothing more than to burn them to protect Tommy, like she had the drugs.

"But I think he's in trouble."

* * *

On another early patrol, he brought down the final blow on a thief, before tossing him onto the pavement like a sack of potatoes.

"I can't thank you enough for your help," insisted the shop owner, holding a wet rag to the head wound the thief had given him.

"You're wel—"

" _Daredevil…"_

He stopped talking, _am I hearing things?_ He increased his scope to listen. There were no screams, no sounds of struggle.

"You're welcome," he continued to the shop owner. "I think you should put a camera on the ceiling above the third aisle—"

" _Daredevil."_

Matt's neck snapped towards the south east. This was not a dream.

He wished the owner a good night and bolted into the darkness of the rooftops.

" _Daredevil!"_

The shout grew louder, and on higher ground he knew who was calling for him in the open night. He landed on the roof retaining wall. She was a little startled by him but remained indifferent, regardless. Matt noticed something off about her though, but he couldn't place it just yet.

"Detective," he said, by way of greeting.

She forwent any small talk; "Is she safe?"

Daredevil could not work during daylight hours, and he had been preoccupied with his day job, thus he had not informed Knight of the situation ASAP.

"Daria did contact her, but I don't—"

She stopped him with a hand, "Don't tell me anymore."

"What do—"

"Just tell me she's safe."

"She is, for the time being. But she won't listen to me, I figured she would listen to you."

"I have to drop the case."

It took him a moment to register what she said _._ She had to be joking, but her body language was telling him that she most definitely was not.

"Why?"

She bit her lip, but decided against whatever she wanted to say. Annoyingly, she turned away and headed for the roof door; "I don't have to explain myself to you."

And that pissed Matt off. He wanted to push her off her high horse, he had had enough of her bloated, arrogant statements. He was fast and blocked her path, he relished the fact that she was mad at him now, too.

"I think you do," he said, with a barely concealed growl.

She crossed her arms indignantly, "And why is that?"

"Oh that's rich." All at once his anger spilled; "You're the one who gave me Magdalena's address, you're the one who asked for my help, whether you want to admit it or not. You were pulled into this weeks ago, just like I was, and you're giving up? I don't know you Knight, and I don't particularly like you, either. But I do know that you don't give up."

She was fuming, her lips pressed into a thin line. "They know who I am."

"They're threatening you."

"Worse."

One syllable was not enough to satisfy Matt. "You told me that you can't trust the people in your precinct. That's never going to change unless we root them out like weeds and stop them. There has to be way—"

She interrupted him harshly; "There is none." The last intonation cracked delicately like an egg shell. Then Matt remembered Tommy, and finally understood. His brain was in a mess trying to understand why his heart suddenly cared so much.

"I was grasping at straws when I asked you for that favour, I shouldn't have. And now people close to me are in danger. Please let me go."

Everything felt off-balance, so he let her pass.

Knight looked back at him as she twisted the door handle. "I envy you," she said, but with no animosity, "your identity is a secret. You wear a mask, and you're someone else when you take it off at the end of the night. I don't have that privilege."

* * *

 **A/N: thank you for the follows, favourites and reviews. I love seeing more and more people interested in my story! Re-watched a few episode of season 2 and was inspired by the dialogue if you noticed. Yay for Riley finally trusting Daredevil! Even if it only lasted one night! Thanks again everyone! See you soon xx**


	7. Chapter 7

The car parked in front of a line of cramped studio flats, with tall fences, open dumpsters left askew and overflowing with trash, thick graffiti piled on like a migraine of colours on it's crumbling walls.

Mahoney took one look at the exterior and shook his head morbidly, beginning to regret his no-nonsense, let's-get-this-done attitude when she asked him to join her. "Humphrey's gonna bust my ass if he finds out I'm helping you."

She grinned from ear to ear; "I was never here, alright?"

Promises made to vigilantes still counted after all. Finding Vern Woodrugh's daughter was next on her ever-growing to do list.

"Did you hear about the latest homicide Sinjon's leading?" Brett asked, shutting the passenger door, "Decapitation. Body MIA."

"Alfie told me," she fibbed. Any form of involvement she had on the case had to be wiped from existence. That was the clear, unspoken message the mafia had threatened her with when she received the text of Tommy's hospital room number.

Riley had burst into the room and skidded to a halt. Besides his prone body missing, she had imagined the worst possible outcomes befalling her baby brother. Instead, she found him sleeping peacefully as she had left him, unharmed, not a single tuft of brown hair out of place.

She had stared from Tommy to Alfie and back and reined in a flood of tears that were breaths from pouring out of her eyes. She lied to Alfie, knowing that this secret had to live and die with her. The rest of the decisions she made had been simple, but not done without a heavy-heart.

 _Those girls may never be saved. What kind of human being am I, if I turned my back on them?_

 _What kind of sister am I if let them kill my brother?_

No matter how she weighed the odds. She lost. Listening to Daredevil berate her had been a blow she took with a pinch of salt, each scalding remark made a punch to her self-esteem, her ego, her moral compass. He was right, as she essentially turned her back on everything she believed in.

 _Does he love anyone? Does he understand? Does he have anything left to live for?_ Someone like him probably had no one, and if he did he was risking their lives too.

"The vic was a prost," Brett went on. "I caught a glimpse of her, she looked… familiar." She had forgotten that Brett had been her partner the night they busted Forlow. "Saw you sneaking around the computers last night as well. You were on the case, too," he concluded. "What happened?"

He followed her beyond the metal fencing that separated the alley from the street. "I just knew there were some things I had let go. That case was one of them."

"Doesn't sound like something Riley Knight would do," he said, skeptical.

"Yeah, well, Riley Knight was almost fired and she has a mortgage to pay off." _And a family to protect._ Money being a motivation was completely unlike her, and Brett was definitely unconvinced.

"We're here," she announced to stop his questions.

The little white lie wasn't going to hurt anyone. At one point she would have to confront Sinjon and see if he had any threats directed to him or his family. And if he didn't…then could he have been the one who endangered Tommy?

She pushed that thought. Sinjon was an asshole but he was not malicious. He had despised Fisk for corrupting the police force as much as she did, especially when his girlfriend betrayed him.

They stood before a rusted iron door, Woodrugh's last known. Riley fiddle the door handle with a lock pick, she unlocked it and signalled for him to follow her lead up the stairwell. She lifted her leg and knocked down the next door. "NYPD!"

The dilapidated apartment had to be in the top ten of dwellings she never wanted to visit again. Worn out arm chair with unidentifiable stains as if it'd been collected from a dumpster dive, it's stuffing coming out in multiple tears. Peeling wallpaper, used needles scattered like poisonous flowers on the sodden carpet waiting to stab the careless walkers. Everywhere she treaded was a health hazard.

"Hello?" Mahoney called out, trying a gentler approach, considering they were searching for a kid no older than ten. She wandered into the kitchen checking the cabinets. That's when a shrill scream rang across the flat.

In the living room Mahoney was struggling to hold onto the scrawny arms of a girl around eight years old. Her legs kicked into the air as she squealed and squirmed in his grip; "LET ME GO!"

Brett was trying to calm her down. Riley ran to them, showing the little girl her palms and crouching towards her before she could be scared off once more. "Hey, hey, it's okay sweetie, we're the police."

Her writhing stilled, "the—the police?"

"Yes; see." She showed her the badge.

She had stopped enough for Brett to release her without worrying she might make a break for it. She wore an oversized faded pink polo shirt, tattered at the sleeves and was in desperate need of a bath. In her hand was the arm of a teddy with one eye, it's furry tummy indented where she must cuddle it every night.

"We wanted to check on you since you're here all alone."

"Who are you?" She demanded, eyes flying to and fro skittishly as she retreated into the closet door Brett must have found her hiding behind, tightly clutching her teddy to her chest.

"I'm Riley. This is Brett. What's your name?"

"Joey," she answered timidly, the fight in her gone. "My dad says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"It's alright, hun. Your dad asked me to look for you," she squatted to her height, keeping a distance of five feet from her.

"W-Where is he?"

 _In a morgue._ Riley smacked her lips, "he's gone to work…for a long time."

Joey looked lost, it wrenched Riley's heart imperceptibly. "He said he'd be right back," mumbled Joey, glancing at the teddy bear she hugged. She promised the girl that she would be safer at the precinct. After a bit of negotiating and searching the flat for Joey's shoes, they convinced her to come with them. Brett already had social services on the line before they left.

They gave her something to eat on the way, starving, she consumed the two ham and cheese sandwiches in less than two minutes. They got Joey fresh clothes and a shower, and a welfare officer from social services came in to look after her. Riley felt like a complete outsider now, being on leave, she only able to check in on them in intervals.

 _I nearly kicked the bucket for the 15th and I'm now I've been chased out like a disgrace._

With the muck washed off Joey's face the tell tale signs of neglect began to surface, with the black eye and a nasty rash down her back. Mahoney relayed whatever Joey told him to Riley. Long story short, Joey had described her father cooking 'pretty blue snowflakes'. The mere mention that Joey had been playing with toys next to a glass of red phosphorus made Riley equal parts sickened and livid. _Might as well put rat poison in her water, since he clearly never cared for her health or safety._

Early the next day, Joey was sent to St. Agne's Orphanage in the interim to finding a foster family for her. Riley could not reveal where or precisely whom she got the intel about Woodrugh's daughter from, and without the full story Brett could not ask Joey the questions Riley needed answers too.

The next day, Riley visited the orphanage and asked one of the Sisters if she could to speak to Joey in private. It was a hard sell. She was not a devout Catholic, yet her old fear of nuns was making every lie Riley told to get her way feel as though she was committing a mortal sin. Regardless, she got ten minutes alone with her.

They met in the courtyard. It was Gothic style, made of grey stone, red brick paths, unkempt ivy twisting into the crevices of the archways and the stone benches worn by the years. There was barely a patch of grass large or decent enough for a child to play in. There was no life or colour in the entire place.

 _What a dour, gloomy place for a child to grow up in._

"Is my daddy in trouble?" She asked when they were seated. Joey wouldn't leave the teddy unattended for a second, it joined them on the bench in the middle.

"No he's not," she said with a hint of a smile. "Did your daddy leave the house many times?"

"U-huh, but I have Stuffin's, so it's not all bad," she patted the bear's head. "Where's the other policeman from yesterday?"

"He's busy, but I really wanted to visit you…and Stuffins," she let out an awkward chuckle but Joey was heedless to how uncomfortable she was talking to children. "Speaking of visiting friends—did your dad ever have any friends visit your home?"

"No."

"Alright, can you tell me why were you hiding in the closest?"

The little girl ignored her purposefully, _does she want to spite me? Or is she bored? I can't read her._ "Joey?" Riley shook Stuffin's paw.

"Mmhm?"

"Why were you hiding in the closest?" She repeated.

"He asked me too."

"Who asked you too?" She leaned closer, meeting the girl's eyes, but she would not return the gaze.

"I can't say. It's a secret," she whispered loudly, mimicking the shushing gesture with Stuffin's arm to the bear's stitched mouth.

"Did your dad tell you it was a secret?"

She absentmindedly fiddled with a lose thread in Stuffin's eye. "Is my daddy in trouble?" She whined.

Riley hid her exasperation with a thin stretched smile, "He's at work, but I can try to talk to him and make him come home earlier," she offered the false hope without a second thought at how crushed Joey would be when none of the promises came true.

"Good. Tell him to hurry, cuz I don't like being here, I don't like the nuns. They don't smile and they wear such ugly dresses and hats. And sometimes when I talk to them, they look at me weirdly."

"I get it." She really did. "But it won't be for much longer." _If social services can quickly scramble a foster family for her to move too…maybe her life might 'improve'_. Riley had always been dealt the wrong hand when it came to foster care _._ She glanced around; how could she phrase the drastic changes coming to Joey's life in way she would understand?

"Where you're going, whatever happens…don't let it define you."

Joey gave her a bambi-eyed quizzical look, "I don't understand, where am I going? What's going to happen?" She began to panic.

"One day you will," she patted her hand, she could empathise with Joey's predicament. The poor girl was alone in a world she did not understand. In only 24 hours she was ripped from her home and forced to live with strangers. She didn't know what was the right or wrong answer, didn't know what the future would hold for the little girl. But that was life wasn't it? Everyone was winging it.

"You're going to meet a lot of people, and it they won't all be nice, some might be scary. But you have to be strong, like how Stuffin's makes you feel strong." Joey pouted unhappily. That had to be the worst advice Riley ever gave, but she couldn't make it more eloquent with her ten minutes almost done. Wherever she went, it had to be better than the life she was living now.

"I have to go soon. I'll talk to your dad, but before I do you have to answer my questions, deal?"

She offered her hand to shake, Joey stared at it blankly, Riley switched it to a pinky promise which she understood miles better.

"When was the last time you saw your dad?"

"At home."

"And did he ask you to hide in the closet?"

Joey leaned closer, "If I tell you, will you keep it a secret?"

"Your secret's safe with me," she said, hand to heart.

"It was a man. He wore black," she whispered.

 _Not red._ Riley leaned away, she should be pleased that her deductions had come to fruition as cold hard evidence, but she wasn't. Even though it had always been stark clear to her that Daredevil was no murderer, the rest of the precinct were against her, and she was still on her own. It would have been so much easier if he was guilty, and a part of her hated being right.

"Did you know him?"

"No, but he was scary, really, really scary," she breathed as if they were at a camp fire exchanging horror stories. "He told me to shush and hide and keep his secret. He asked me to cover my ears and count to twenty. I said I didn't know how too count to twenty so I counted to ten, two times," the girl rambled off eyes growing wider in fear.

"I see. Did you see this man's face?" She nodded, Riley smiled at her softly. "Do you like drawing, Joey?"

* * *

"Run facial recognition," she handed the sketch's artist facial composite to Mahoney. She had cornered him by the copy machine at the precinct. "Please," she added when he grumbled disapprovingly under his breath.

"You should be paying me for the extra work you're laying on me everywhere I go." He looked at the sketch, "And who is this?"

"I think it might be the man who killed Vern Woodrugh."

"That little girl's father? From yesterday?"

"Yup."

"You went to the orphanage to speak to her?" He quirked a brow. "How do you even know he was murdered?"

"The visit to his flat confirmed that. He was right handed, he clearly could not have overdosed himself." A similar observation Daredevil must have made. _His investigative skills aren't half bad._

Brett had both his index fingers pointed to the ceiling to try and get this straight in his head; "The anti-vigilante task force aka your best friend, is telling everyone that Daredevil killed him, and Cap is supporting that claim. Now you're saying someone else did it? What does this even have to do with the kid?"

"I don't know what I'm trying to say." She trusted Mahoney to keep this between them, since he had collared Fisk with Daredevil all those months ago—though, being the humble man he was, he loathed the mention of it. "Either way no one here is listening to me. All I know is what Joey told me. This man killed her father and we need to find him."

The hard lines on his forehead softened, and that convinced Brett.

Someone was out there, trying to destabilise the biggest crime rings in the city. He was starting small, but Riley knew it was going to escalate, soon the gangs would be in uproar.

Facial recognition could not identify the man in the sketch but Brett said he would try again later. At home, she pinned a photocopy of the sketch on her white board. _Dark shaved head, a defined jaw, but not too square, dark eyes…_ she repeated a matured version of Joey's description of the assailant. _Daredevil's copy cat, exacting his own revenge on Hell's Kitchen._

Staring at the drawing, the man was only half-real, a fragment of a child's imagination.

Yet Riley's entire reputation as a detective depended on finding him.

* * *

The pair gathered in his office for a meeting that definitely had nothing to do with their firm. Foggy prattled on with jokes and laughs he knew were fake to stave Karen's curiosity until she relented and left them alone.

He shut the door behind him as Foggy stuffed his hand in his messenger bag rifling around in it with increasing urgency, "I have to show you something, oh man, it changes everything!" When he had what he needed, he lengthened his arm towards Matt, waved the sheet of paper vigorously at his face; "Check this out!"

"Sounds like a piece of paper, Foggy," he monotoned.

"Oh crap, with the costume and the rooftop parkour sometimes I forget." He rested it on the desk for Matt to inspect. "I 'slipped' this off Brett's desk before I left the station," he said mischievously, "a sketch of the guy who's been framing Daredevil."

His fingers ran over the ridges of the ink valleys, painting the picture in his mind's eye. _Shaved_ _head, close set eyes, long nose..._

"You're welcome, by the way for my excellent eavesdropping skills. I overheard our fre-enemy, Knight chatting to Mahoney about it. Good news; she's still on our side."

"I don't need her on my side," he barked over-defensively without thinking. He cleared his throat, adjusted his tie even though it was already neat; "Did they get a name for him?" He asked, placid.

Foggy still scowled at him, but didn't read into it; "Not that I know of. I wasn't a hundred percent certain this sketch would even be of any use to you, but who am I to underestimate your super-senses?" He shrugged.

* * *

Matt was packing his bag to leave work. Usually he would block out the mannerisms and motions of his two friends in the office, not wanting to invade their privacy. But out of curiosity he listened to what Karen was occupied with;

 _"…he was in charge of the investigation…"_ she muttered to herself before biting her pen, ruminating.

He wondered what she was reading. He had been trying to follow her work the past few days to figure out what had unsettled her during Detective Knights visit, why she lied to him. Matt did not tell Foggy she was hiding something. _Y_ _ou have no right to point fingers at her when you lie to her everyday,_ Fog would scold, and Matt could not face the prospect of another argument.

"… _But did he close the investigation? Did he work for him?"_

" _Hey Karen! Whachu got there?"_

Foggy popped into the room as if in a puff of smoke. Karen yelped, and arranged papers to cover whatever she was reading. After concentrating on Karen's quiet-as-a-mouse whispering, Foggy's enthusiastic greeting thrummed Matt's eardrums.

" _Nothing,"_ she lied. Again. _"I was just thinking… we should head to Josie's tonight, we haven't been in ages."_ He could hear the big grin she quickly plastered on.

Nice move. Any mention of a night out in town was guaranteed to divert Foggy's attention. He wagged an approving finger at her; _"I like how you think, Karen. Let me ask Mr. Grumpypants in the next room, fingers crossed he won't bail on us this time to go home and sleep at 8pm."_

The joke missed the mark with Matt. Karen snickered into her palm. He was obligated to ask Matt to join them even though Matt knew he would not have minded his absence.

Foggy knocked. "Come in."

"Hey Matty, drinks at Josie's?"

His chagrined sigh was everything to tell Foggy that he was not in. "Not tonight."

"Why am I surprised?" He snorted, Foggy closed the door lightly behind him leaving it unlocked. His tongue rolled against the back of his teeth, the sign he was going to discuss a touchy subject. Matt braced himself for it.

"Matt, if our…'friend' is going out tonight to look for the Man in the Sketch. I would strongly advise him not too."

"Our friend is going," he replied stonily, as staunch as a boulder. They both knew the Man in the Sketch, the onerous long name they gave the killer, was extremely dangerous. But this was not a night he could skip to go have drinks, 'be normal' as Foggy would complain, Daredevil had to find him before he murdered anyone else under his name.

"Our _friend_ graduated summa cum laude from an Ivy League university, he should be smart enough to know when he doesn't have enough information to find the Man in the Sketch." He lifted a finger before Matt could hiss a retort, "Our friend should let the cops look into this further until we know what we're dealing with, and whether he acts alone or not."

"It has to be done _now,"_ he zipped his bag a little too forcefully. _"_ Our friend will find the information on his own, he doesn't need the cops to help."

"There's still a chance with that detective, and our friend is going about it the wrong way," Foggy said coolly, negotiating with Matt Murdock and not Daredevil. "Maybe he should find some common ground?"

"No, there is no chance," he insisted. "She's no different from the rest of them."

He was a moron to expect anything more from Knight. Sex trafficking, prostitution, they could have done something to wipe the filth from their city. But she gave up when it became tough. Dropped it alltogether like a plate smashing to a hundred pieces on the floor.

God, he was tired. Tired of people turning their backs on their duty, tired of the lying, the scheming, the hatred. Tired of the justice system.

But as it was, he was a part of it.

He shouldn't be this critical. She was protecting her brother. But the last word he would use to describe being Daredevil was 'privilege,' and somehow she thought it was one. Every morning he woke up with another bruise or scar to make him gasp in pain. Was he supposed to take that like a reward?

In her defense, the way he fought crime in a mask was a safety net he had knitted for himself. But why should he feel sorry for her circumstances? Dig deeper into the opposing methods which they chose to protect their city? It was what it was. He was blind, she was not. He had Stick, she had a badge. Plain and simple…

Nevertheless, doing this without external help would take longer, would allow more of the filth to breed and tear away at his city chink by chink.

And the more he did this night after night, the more his crusade became inexorably lonely.

"Be careful Daredevilling," said Foggy dejectedly.

"I always am."

That came off a tad cocky. Foggy rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He could tell this bit of banter was going to brew into another fight some day down the road.

* * *

At Metro General she sat in a waiting chair with a horrid cup of what pretended to be coffee in her hand. Gale was nowhere to be found to save her from it with a more authentic brew from the staff lounge— and Riley was desperate.

The detective sipped the black sludge, praying the caffeine would keep her alert through the rest of what she knew would be an exhausting day.

She exhaled and threw the cup in the trash can and went to visit her brother. She startled him when she knocked on his door, he rubbed his eyes. He smiled at her and asked where she had been when she left the other night as he slept. "Just work stuff," she said, smiling pleasantly as if there was nothing wrong.

 _And there isn't. Everything has been put in the past. Where it must stay._

"Didn't you say you were on holiday?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah I am, it was just some overdue filing." Closer to him, his eyes looked red. "Are you okay Tommy?"

He nodded, smiling more intently, "Yeah I'm fine."

She squinted at him, "You look like you've been crying."

"Toy Story was on tv. I couldn't help myself."

She laughed, "the scene with Jessie always gets me snot-nosed and teary eyed. Maybe this will make you feel better." From her pocket she produced a small leather case. Her brother's eyes glittered with glee and excitement.

He opened the watch case and whistled low in appreciation. "Damn, this is nice. The quality—it's just," he couldn't speak in awe of the time piece.

"I remember you used to collect the most random things in those huge mason jars; watches, for example. Green and red jelly beans… toast that had George Washington burnt into it," she added grimacing in mild disgust.

He sat straighter in a playful defensive way, hands gesticulating animatedly; "Hey, what are the odds that a random slice of wonderbread would have that imprinted into it, I mean the _detail_ Riles, you can't deny the magic!" They laughed together and then fell silent again. She watched his big smile slip off as he stared at the watch and be replaced with growing dread. "Wait…" he said, "what's wrong?"

She frowned at him, "what do you mean?"

"You don't get me anything nice unless you have bad news." She was taken aback, scanning through her past trying to locate the instances he referred too. "C'mon, when they made us visit mom? When you got a job and moved out of New York, when you enrolled into the academy. The bionic set, the PS2, the bike?" He listed the memories with the accompanying expensive gifts she gave to soften the blow of whatever hardship was about to thrust upon them.

"Okay, I have a pattern," she agreed, after a long moment, "but what happens when you get out of here is not going to be an easy path."

Tommy tried not to roll his eyes, she nagged him like a parent and not his sister."I've been on it plenty of times."

"This time is different." Riley had thought about what she was going to ask of him, why she came to this conclusion. "I'm sorry that I'm asking this of you," she clasped her hands together ready to ask for his forgiveness, "When you get out…" she forced herself to say it, like jabbing a finger down your throat to vomit.

"You have to go with Mom."

Tommy pulled a face as if she had made an offensive joke, he let out a single cutting laugh; "What the actual fuck are you talking about? You're joking, this- this is a joke."

Riley shook her head in dismay; "I'm not."

His features twisted,. "I am never going anywhere with her," he said, with the cold steadfastness that brokered no argument. "And I sure as hell am not leaving New York. I never want to leave, this is my home. This will _always_ be my home."

"I can't see another solution. You can't stay and not get help, you keep running away from every rehab I send you too—"

"You mean put me in, by force," he threw his fist against the bed, the IV hooked to his wrist jangling.

They were tumbling headfirst into the same argument. "If no one was there to put me through it and make me stay, then I would not be where I am now. I would be high 24/7, wasting my life letting the whole world pass me by in a haze—"

"Oh here go," he rolled his eyes contemptuously, "get off your high horse, Riles. I am not your problem to fix, to solve or whatever this is. I'm sick of hearing how much better your life is compared to mine." She was speechless, and had to reel herself in before she snapped at him. He tossed the covers up in his rant, "Fuck it, you win. You win."

That was the last straw; "This isn't about winning! And of course you're my problem, dumbass, you're my brother! The things I've had to—" she caught herself, fingers curling, needing to grab onto something or maybe strangle someone. " _This_ is about not giving up on you. I spend every dime I earn on your healthcare, trying to find help for you, I'm at the end of the line here—"

"Sounds a lot like giving up," he interrupted, raising his voice over hers. She stood out of her chair and slammed the table, did she have to beg him? Scream at him? Threaten him? She would do it all if it would make him listen to her; "that's not what I meant! If you would let me explain—"

"GUYS!" They didn't notice Gale's head popping through the door, her expression was that of an extremely pissed off nurse crossed with a deeply concerned friend who had zero clue what to do about the quarrelling siblings. "Enough screaming for God's sake! This is a hospital and none of us want to be the audience for your personal shouting match. Can we sort this out, or do I have to sedate you both to make you shut up?" She reprimanded, like a slap to the cheek.

"Sorry," said Tommy, shrinking into the bed. The quietness that reoccupied the air was thick and showed how loud they had been screeching at each other. "My sister was just leaving."

Some people were impossible to reason with. This was far from over, and he was aware of that. She combed through her hair and headed for the door. Riley glanced over her shoulder at him, saying; "We both need to learn how to live with the consequences of our actions. I wouldn't ask you to leave with mom unless it was important, you _know_ that."

Tommy crossed his arms, shot her a withering look, and glued his eyes to the window.

* * *

When Matt set out later that night, he'd had one goal, track the man framing him. But as usual, the darkness had multiple layers and depths, crimes he had to stop that deviated him from his path.

Halfway through the night he had to stop another gang stand off. It lead him to start tracking an arms dealer selling weapons to street gangs in the Kitchen. If kids like Wes Cleon were getting their hands on guns without permits, rather than keep throwing them in juvie he ought to find the source of the problem. He hated mixing work with 'Daredevilling' but they had become intertwined even more than before, to poor Foggy's chagrin.

He followed every gun shot his ears picked up to its source. _"Where did you get that gun? Who? When?"_ But one after another the crooks were dead ends.

He perched on a rooftop, taking the short break he permitted himself to have without feeling guilty. His arms were weary, joints aching, a cold sweat plastering his hair to his helmet. Something had to come out of tonight, it couldn't all be a waste.

Then he heard a gun shot and rose. As he took a step back to leapt to the next roof, there was another shot. Matt froze as all hell broke loose.

Round after round after round after round of bullet casing clattered to the ground, _clang-clang-clang-clang,_ sharp and piercing, shots echoed into the air and reverberated in his skull, overpowering the screams of dying men. He unfroze and leapt, following the sound, dashing across the city. Heart hammering in his chest, adrenaline flowing dark and fast through his veins. _This is it, this is the man in the sketch._

And he has an army.

He knew that as Matt reached the location. An old factory. The smell of death, and gore, and blood overwhelmed him as if he was inside, choking beneath a dozen dead bodies. He winced, rubbing his nose and forcing himself to near the scene of the violence.

He swivelled around, but whoever had unloaded an entire magazine on the group of men beneath him was no where. He was too late. Again. He checked the situation of the group under his feet. The last man alive was clutching his insides like a pile of snakes as his life bled out of him. At that stage he would not have been able to give him anything useful.

By mistake, Matt listened to him die. Agony, terror… and then nothing.

For once, he whispered a prayer for the souls that left their bodies.

* * *

Fresh brewed coffee and the mouth watering smell of bacon wafted from the kitchen in the Valentine residence on a breezy Saturday morning. Going against Maggie's breakfast rules, Alfie started to talk shop when his wife went into the kitchen.

"Check this out," he shoved his smart phone at her while she buttered her toast. She tisked, a little peeved, but read it anyway. "The group took out two lieutenants and all their manpower. That's 32 men in less than ten minutes!" Exclaimed Alfie in fascination.

Eating her delicious breakfast was very appealing but as she read further down the case caught her interest too. "They found a stash of heroin in one of their suitcases. Should be useful for the task force." Her second-in-command, Adams, would look into this while she was on break.

Gang violence was normal. But upon examining the specs and figures, it was startling how many had dropped dead in one night. A considerable amount of manpower in the underground criminal world had been eliminated in one fell swoop. The precinct would be divided when it came to this. It wasn't the worst thing to happen, but murder wasn't anything to be proud of. Riley knew where she stood.

"I'm sorry," blurted Alfonso. She lifted her head to look at him. "You were right, this couldn't have been Daredevil. The docks, the drug raid, it couldn't have been him. The captain, myself, everyone was wrong. I definitely should never have doubted you. I'm sorry."

Strangely, she wasn't completely satisfied. "I accept your apology," she said, besides. "I guess we exchange one problem for another. Who do you think he is?"

"He?" Alf was nonplussed. "You think it's one guy?"

She had to admit it was a reach, but stranger things have happened; "It's one rifle, same vantage point."

He pinched his fingers together; "One _type_ of gun, not one gun."

"We've had several cases over the last three months that have been similar. A group of at least half a dozen dead in one night, congregated together with the same COD's."

"But one guy?" He repeated, still dubious. The way he said it made her doubt herself too, and Riley didn't like entertaining those feelings.

"I know when you're talking shop, and I warned you," teased Maggie, carrying a stack of pancakes towards the table. Their little daughter, Alyssa followed closely behind her mother's legs with a toy, screaming for Aunt Riley with a 'W' instead of an 'R'. She picked Alyssa into her lap and hugged her. Alfie apologised and kissed Maggie, she smiled beautifully back at him. Riley averted her eyes from the incredibly private moment. She was ashamed to be slightly jealous of their love. She never felt like that before. But was it wrong to want someone too?

All these pleasantries, weekend brunches, smiles...with everything that had happened did this life even suit her, anymore? She was being a peacock, pretending. The mafia had threatened her brother's life over information she had. What was she doing eating brunch?

Her phone rang. "Hey Gale, what's up?

" _They took him, Riley."_

* * *

The officer at the desk barely finished their sentence before Riley was flying towards the interrogation rooms. She didn't want him anywhere near the precinct and look where he was now. Coming from that way she caught Michaels; "Why did you detain my brother? What are you charging him for?

Michaels drew back as if she'd struck him. "Knight, whoa, whoa, there's no need for-"

She ground her teeth, "Tell me."

He paused, but saw no point in denying her. "Reckless endangerment, manslaughter—"

Those three words nearly gave her a heart attack. "Who the hell is pressing charges?"

"No one. He confessed."

Riley's jaw nearly hit the floor.

As they passed the hallway with interrogation rooms she made a beeline for the one she knew he would be in. Her hand clamped onto the door handle. "You can't go in there," Michaels grabbed her shoulder, he let go off her when she shot him a scowl. "And why the fuck not?

"He has a meeting with his lawyer."

She must have misheard him, she stared at Michaels for a long moment.

"I didn't hire a lawyer."

When she walked in, nothing or no one could prevent the sour contempt that swallowed her face.

 _It had to be him._

Matt Murdock didn't acknowledge her for a few dragged out seconds. Staring straight ahead, he tilted his chin in that annoyingly 'intellectual' manner he did to 'sense' his surroundings.

"Judging from the foul language; Detective Knight, I presume?"

He folded his hands and searched for his cane only to grip it with grace and firmness. The movements felt exaggerated and careful all of a sudden, she never noticed it before. _Like some kind of show he put on?_ Nevertheless his overall presence, along with Nelson's only added salt to the gaping wound.

She clenched her fists and folded her arms tightly over her chest. "I'll deal with you in a second," her attention went to her brother who sat across from them. "What the hell are you doing?"

Tommy looked somber as if preparing for a battle, which she was definitely going to give him. "Riles—"

"We'll give you two a moment," Murdock stood, "Foggy," Nelson followed suit, hooking his hand in his partner's arm.

"I can see the resemblance," said Nelson as the pair passed her. Nelson should have burnt to a pile of cinders from her glare. Fortunately for him, Murdock tugged on his arm and they left her alone with her brother.

She smacked her lips, a crazed snicker about to bubble out from her mouth. _It had to be those two. I am being pranked, or God is having a laugh at my expense._ Riley slumped into the chair Nelson vacated. She rubbed her eyes, making an exasperated noise. "Tommy, please, _please_ , tell me you are high," she begged.

"You want me to be high?"

 _It's the only reason you would do something this reckless._ She removed her hands from her eyes, mouth hanging open. "You're confessing to manslaughter," she guffawed. "This is not a game, for God's sake, this is your future."

"Why are you mad? I'm trying to own up to my mistakes, Riles. To live with the consequences of what I've done."

 _Do to what I told him to do_. She should not be mad. She should be proud. But praising him for his bravery was not even on her mind. Maybe it was the overbearing protective instinct she had, she definitely had a blind spot when it came to her family.

She had not told him about the church and the drugs she found. Their existence had probably slipped his mind, and if it weren't for her getting rid of them he would be in even deeper trouble than he already was. _I'm always cleaning up the messes he leaves behind. And if he is convicted I lose him anyway._

"I'm angry that you went behind my back," she almost lost her temper then, but she breathed out through her mouth to calm herself. They both clearly did not have the skin for another heated argument like the one at the hospital. "That I could lose you again. Is that why you came back to town? To run away from what you did?"

"Partly," he looked ill at the thought of having to re-tell the story. "I never told you how I came back to New York, the crash that put me in the hospital with five broken ribs. You asked why I was upset before, this is why."

She pinched her nose bridge, "We're in this mess together," she lowered her hand to look at him with her cop face on to absorb every detail. "Tell me what happened."

Rarely did Tommy ever speak of the people in his life, they flitted in and out of his world within hours or minutes. Riley never cared to listen to stories of his stoner friends and the delinquents he'd befriended. It only stressed her further, _what if he's caught? What if they lead him astray? What if they kill him?_

Tommy was a creature of habit. Yet she was surprised. Never had he spoken of someone as fondly or as adoringly as he spoke of the girl he once loved. "…She was everything. She didn't judge me, she didn't want me to change…" Tommy sniffed, trying not to choke on his words, staring at his fingers as he relived the pain and joy of the blink of happiness that had not lasted long enough.

"…For a second, I thought we could keep living in that dream, share it together, like nobody else in the world ever existed before or after us." He was avoiding saying her name. "I gave her some stuff, she took too much. She was just lying there in front of me, not moving. I ran and never looked back, I went into hiding, and I have been looking over my shoulder ever since. And I saw myself, in that moment, the person I had become. I have to make this right. Riles, I just— I need your help, please."

He held his head in his hands. She watched him suffer and Riley knew she had a duty make that suffering disappear. She got out of her chair, around the table and hugged him. Mistakenly, she had not seen his hurt in the hospital, but she did now.

"I'm sorry. And you have it."

* * *

Fingers pressed to her lips, Knight sat down on a waiting bench in the lobby, oblivious to the bustle of the precinct passing in front of her. Hours might have gone by and she would not have noticed. It must be exhausting caring about someone as much as Knight did for her brother. He hardly knew the detective, but she deserved better.

Either she would eat him alive or accept his help. "Flip a coin," suggested Fog with a wry smile. He followed Foggy's advice from earlier, and asked him to lead him to the bench and leave them. She looked up when he neared.

"Why are you doing this?" She hissed immediately, prying for a hidden agenda he did not have. They had stark differences, and a grudge running between them but sabotaging her by using her brother was very far from the true reason he was involved in this.

Matt responded with snark. "Your brother is my client, and I'm defending him. That concept shouldn't hard for you to comprehend."

"How much are you going to charge my brother for your legal services? I hope you come cheap."

He couldn't stop his hurt reaction. He made a colossal effort daily to lie and sneak and hide how he felt, who he was, beneath the dark glasses he wore. But he'd tripped in that second, he'd let go. He genuinely wanted to help Tommy Knight, it had nothing to do with money.

She bit her bottom lip; "I'm sorry," she closed her eyes and shook her head. "That was unnecessary. You could be the one thing standing between him and ten years in prison." The world must be coming to an end if she was apologising for her rudeness towards him, God forbid a lawyer.

"For what it's worth, I had no idea you two were related." He did, but when Thomas Knight walked into their office, Matt could not turn the young man away. "Our reputation preceded us and Thomas sought us himself. I listened to his appeal and I wanted to help him."

"Kid has an ear to the ground, he's been through the system before. He knows what's best for him when it comes to these things, or he thinks he knows." Who knew all it took to get on her good side was common decency and a little sincerity? Somewhere, Foggy wore a smug smile.

"I am solely here to represent your brother, that's it." He tried to level with her; "I understand you must be afraid for him."

She looked at him through slitted eyes. "How could you understand?"

"You're right, I don't." He skim read the file Karen compiled. Hospitalization for over-consumption of alcohol, street violence, juvie records as a minor, in and out of rehab seven times. His sister had paid every bill, taking over as his benefactor the moment she got her first pay cheque.

He sat down on the bench, a space between them. "Mr. Nelson and I are good at what we do, your brother knows it, and you know it too."

"How the tables have turned," she said, dryly.

Matt lifted his head to her, considered leaving. And then, he didn't trust himself to leave without saying it, didn't think he ever would if he did, he told her; "I'm an orphan." _Why am I telling her this?_ She probably knew the whole story already after snooping into his background. "And for a very long time, I didn't feel at home anywhere, I had no one. That only changed a couple of years ago and I can't imagine my life without them."

There were smudges of weariness bruising the skin beneath her eyes. She was alone, carrying the weight of her world on her shoulders. And wasn't he in the exact same predicament? He extended his hand out to her. "I will keep Thomas out of jail, you have my word."

She stared at it for a brief moment, and then took it in hers. "I will."


	8. Chapter 8

All she saw was red, painting the walls, the floors, and the surfaces in its bright hue. The floor was sticky with dried blood and carpeted in broken glass. The crime scene was a bloodbath, made gloriously bloodier by the sunlight shining through the large windows. She didn't have a gag reflex, but that was probably because most of the bodies she inspected were pickled and frozen in chemicals in a cold morgue. Not ripe and fresh like the many, many carcasses scattered before her in various positions. Summer heat left the bodies smelling awful, and if she had not adapted to formaldehyde making her eyes water she would never have volunteered to visit the crime scene.

Some stiffs had been running from the gunman when they were shot, some even had guns in their hands, defending off their invisible attacker. Some were slumped onto the dining table where they sat, a half full beer bottle tipped over on its side just inches from their lifeless fingers.

Riley shone a flashlight on a body on the ground; half of his shoulder was blown off and bullet pellets dotted his chest. Alfie whistled long; "holy shit straight through this asshole's eye," he shone his flashlight into the viscera, pulling a grossed out face.

She glanced at the extent of the massacre. This was going to take a lot of work to get through. The morgue was practically bursting with bodies, and the coroner's reports were getting less frequent and more spaced apart by the day.

She snorted, "better tell Maggie she'll be expecting late nights for the next few weeks. You'll never process this shitshow in a day." Riley already knew she was going to be a cat-owning spinster for the rest of her life, she welcomed the extra work. Alfie, on the other hand, not so much.

"Adams what do we have?" She asked her second as he hovered over a pair of CI's collecting evidence. There were white streaks of dust on the floor, pink where it had sprinkled in a pool of blood. "Briefcase exploded when they came under fire, but by examining the fragment patterns it must have been roughly a kilo of heroin."

"Wouldn't pin these guys as smugglers, they could easily have been distributing it to low-level dealers." These guys being Irishmen, she had never crossed paths with them before though. Their presence had lessened over the past two decades and they had never been a pressing problem besides illegal gambling and fixing matches in numerous sports. But even that was old news. _Could they have been staging some sort of comeback?_

She went outside. A flash of blonde hair, and a familiar white cane made her look at the police tape.

* * *

"Hey Detective Knight! My favorite client!" Foggy obnoxiously called, catching people's attention, while he waved at her like an excited kindergartner. She flushed, her eyes went round and she stomped to him with malice in each step.

She shushed him brusquely, "jeez, Nelson, could you _be_ any louder?" Her cheeks went red and all Matt wanted to do was laugh, but he repressed his amusement. "Foggy prides himself in knowing that he can out-talk anyone in a room."

"You look lovely as always, Knight, even with the bloody latex gloves," added Foggy.

"Please step aside; this is an active crime scene," she said with an official tone, shooing them from the police tape.

"We had a couple of questions," he said.

Whether she told them anything or not, Matt would be there to listen. He had not intended for her to spot them in the crowd, since they were there to look for Brett, so Matt instructed Foggy to distract her.

"You can read about it in the papers, like everyone else."

Foggy gestured his hands out like an honest broker, "Come on detective, we're not everyone else. I thought we were really bonding."

She stared at him with a deadpan expression, like she thought he must not have his head screwed on properly. Matt was collecting information with his ears, a few tidbits stuck out more than others.

" _Had to be military grade equipment, look at the diameter of the exit wound. Even a bulletproof vest could not save him…"_

" _The DA is going nuts…"_

" _Who the hell are these guys? What do they want?"_

"…Look at this guy, spacing out," Knight snapped her fingers at him, prickly that he was not listening.

"Sorry."

Foggy's endless, twisting negotiations had finally gotten her to spill some news; "For God's sake, if it gets you to leave, then I'll tell you one thing; it's gang on gang violence that's turned into overkill. I also highly recommend that you drop whatever reason you have for waltzing up to me under the pretense of a 'social call', and stay away for your own good."

"That was two things detective," Foggy pointed out with a smug smile. She glowered at him.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a side smile. "Thank you. After the stroll under the umbrella in the rain and your concern for our safety, you really do care don't you, detective?"

"You can't see Murdock, but I'm rolling my eyes now." She pointed at her face and Matt laughed, it had been a while since anyone had the balls to joke about his blindness. A moment later her name was called back into the building. "I have to get go now, have a good day."

"You too!" Said Foggy.

Foggy took him aside; "stroll under the umbrella in the rain?" He repeated, enjoying the prospect of delicious gossip, "too cute."

Matt laughed, "It's a long story." _That did not end the way either of us expected it too._

"Well I tried Matty, she's stubborn as a bull. Maybe you overheard something?"

The smile evaporated. He explained every detail of what he heard; "…There are new players in hell's kitchen. Para-military type of organization is carrying out these massacres. They have serious hardware with the training to out-match the police force. The DA doesn't know who they are."

"The list of possible suspects is narrowing though, isn't it?" Foggy noted, sardonically. "You still think it's one person?"

"Knight believes that, it'd be better if it were; they would be easier to take down."

Foggy caged his fingers on his temples; incredulous that Matt was still _this_ crazy. "Dude, were you even _listening?_ This could be a squadron of trained killers! Do you think I want to see a sizeable exit wound the diameter of a fist going through your chest? Your pajamas can't handle that!"

Matt couldn't help but smirk, even though this was far from a comedy to Foggy. "C'mon, are you really going to call my carbon alloy based plated suit— pajamas?"

Foggy shook his head, his best friend was like a grandparent stuck in their ways, you could only nod along with them, and find some humor in their unhealthy habits. Luckily, Foggy was just that type of friend; dealing with Matt was maddening but never boring. "Your wit never fails you Matty, but your not-so- bulletproof vest might."

* * *

"Was that who I thought it was?" Alfie asked, squinting into the crowd downstairs.

"Who?" She asked, already knowing whom he was referring too.

He shut his eyes trying to remember, "the blonde one who needs a haircut, and the blind smartass."

"Nelson and Murdock?"

He was obviously still pissed with them from the jewel theft case they lost. Alfie held grudges longer than she did, that's why it always got tedious if they argued. "Yeah those two," he titled his chin sharply, "What did they want?"

Riley shrugged, "same as everyone else, to know what the hell is going on."

He rubbed his forehead possibly developing a headache from the smell and the upcoming workload bearing down on them; "In other news; the DA wants to see us," said Alfie.

"Reyes? I haven't seen her since..." The Battle of New York felt like it was yesterday. It was odd how people could forget an event, where in the moment- they all thought was the apocalypse raining down on them from the sky. "Why does she want to see us?"

"The anti-vigilante task force, it's her brain child."

This surprised her. "Really?"

"Pretty sure it is, given how extensively she's been involved this past week." She had always assumed a task force of this scale had to hold the interest of someone very important. "Hogarth & Chao, the corporate law firm? They have Jessica Jones, she's committed vigilantism in the past, but her methods aren't as black and white as Daredevil and whatever the hell this is." He circled his index at the general crime scene. "Except the DA isn't touching her just yet. She's a private investigator."

"Never heard of her."

"Doesn't matter. You know PI's, somehow an expensive camera and a couple of subscriptions to national databases and they think they're solving actual crimes."

She exhaled a laugh; occasionally Alfie could get as catty as a disgruntled teenager, and she found it hilarious.

"Hold on, why does she want to meet me? Why not just you?" Asked Riley.

"You saw these people coming before anyone else did, I told her you were working point on this task force with me, not in it but close enough that you were important to it's success. Is that okay?"

The DA always took care of the precinct's interest. Riley had no issue working with her. She started to take off her gloves, and shrugged a shoulder, "perfectly fine with me. Let's see what Reyes wants."

* * *

Alfonso and Riley met the DA in the conference room. She was one of those rare women who aged well and nothing about her appearance had changed. She was a no-nonsense woman; brutal to the many defense attorneys she had destroyed in court. That had gained her the respect of police officers and solicitors alike. She gave them an unyielding steely gaze as they approached, giving each of them a firm confident handshake, and a smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Have we met before?" Reyes scanned Riley head to toe without even blinking.

"Detective Riley Knight."

For a moment, the crow's feet at the corner of her eyes crinkled into a warm wholehearted smile, one Riley did not think she was capable of. "I remember," she spoke, fondly. "At the battle, you led an evacuation through the subway tunnels with a pack of civilians; including my daughter and myself. Thank you, again for your bravery."

Riley was a passing flash of navy blue at the front of a large terrified crowd, repressing her own panic with shouted orders as aliens attacked above ground. She was surprised Reyes even remembered her in that dark tunnel. "You're welcome."

Just as easily she returned to the business of the meeting. "Valentine informed me you had foreseen this para-military team that's ravaging the city."

"We expected gang violence to escalate after the Fisk scandal. Amidst the normal occurrences they've also mixed their murders with vigilantism, for example; saving civilians and hunting drug cooks. But after today, he appears to have a vendetta."

Reyes eyebrows creased, "He?"

"They, I meant," she corrected, swallowing. She was welcomed back with open arms to the precinct for her skills and judgment. But she was on probation, walking on eggshells nonetheless.

Her expression did not waver as she processed what Riley told her. "Tell me what you found today," continued the DA, "don't miss out a single detail."

* * *

Karen wiped sweat off her brow and let out an exasperated huff. How many times was she going to smack the portable fan alive again before she pitched it out the window? She plopped back into her chair and turned the next page in the dossier she made on the James Wesley murder.

She tactfully kept the images the police took of the murder scene blue tacked with the front lying down so she wouldn't have to agonize herself by looking at the man she killed.

 _I killed._

Karen traced her bottom lip then pressed her mouth into the heel of her hand, breathing in her perfume through her nose as she calmed herself with deep gulps of air. She reminded herself of why she did it. _For Foggy's laughs, for Matt's smile. For this._ She glanced up and around the office. Small, but humble, yet it was a giant expanse to her, her whole world. She had to keep telling herself it was worth it, to pull the trigger, even if her own mind doubted it.

"Good morning Karen!" Greeted Foggy as he opened the front door, injecting a hundred times more happiness and enthusiasm into her self-induced misery.

"Good morning," she smiled pleasantly, folding the Wesley files in front of her and lifting a stack of today's cases onto her table to hide them. Dimly, she considered telling him right then and there. She desperately wanted to tell someone, especially her best friends, if only to ease something inside her.

They would try to understand. Foggy probably would more than Matt, due to his Catholicism, killing one person to him was like killing a hundred. But as lawyers who helped the downtrodden and beat down on a daily basis, and being generally decent human beings— they would see there was no justice in taking a man's life.

They were better people than she could ever hope to become, and that's why she had to protect them from the truth.

"How did the Thomas Knight case go over the weekend?"

"Better than we expected, he's our first client today," he said from his office. She noted Matt was late again. He was such a mystery sometimes. There were moments she wanted to throttle him for being such a shitty liar, others when she only wanted to hold and comfort him when he came to work with a bruise or cut he couldn't explain. And yet, she was a hypocrite for berating him for his secrets when she had plenty of her own.

Foggy strolled to her desk, excitement and animation in his step, the way he did when he had to tell her something intriguing. Then again, Foggy could make any mundane story sound like the plot for a Blockbuster movie. She leaned in to listen. "You'll never guess what happened—" he was interrupted by a door knock, his eyebrows lifted to his hairline. "I guess you'll find out now."

"Come in!" It was weird that they didn't immediately walk in like most clients would. When the door handled turned, she understood why.

Cops normally knock on doors first before they're let in.

As Detective Knight stepped from behind her brother and into the office, Karen squeezed the corner of the box, the floor beneath her turning to water. Everything she had collected on Thomas Knight became glaringly clear. She wanted to smack her head for her stupidity. She only had herself to blame for overlooking the fact that Thomas was related to Detective Knight. She had presumed 'Riley' was Thomas' _brother_ not sister.

"Detective! You're 5 minutes early," said Foggy tapping his watch.

"I wasn't going to let him come here alone, so I drove. Hello, Ms. Karen, I'm here for actual legal services not to ask any questions I assure you."

Tommy measured their exchange and scoffed; "dear God, has she bothered you too? I sincerely apologize on her behalf." The snide remark earned him a thump on the shoulder from his sister and they scowled at each other like quarreling 6 year olds. It was both amusing and surreal.

"You must be Thomas' sister," she paused delicately, "I didn't realize when we spoke to Thomas earlier, of course you're welcome."

"Yes, this is quite unusual," the Detective, concurred. _She asked after Ben, me, Wesley,_ her brain pounded on, feeding her mistrust for cops. Karen's immediate reaction was hostile rather hospitable, the latter she was typically required to act towards a client. She had to rewire herself quickly.

"I still can't believe I'm hiring the lawyers I've faced off against in the courtroom but life's funny that way," Knight continued. "Anywho, let's get down to it, where's Murdock?" She asked, razor-sharp blue eyes skimming the office. The way she asked after Matt, using his last name, sounded like she was very familiar with her other boss. _Are they friends?_ Karen wordlessly watched her as Foggy answered on behalf of their suddenly mute assistant.

"He's running a little late, but we can start without him."

The detective followed Foggy into the conference a protective hand on her brother's back.

* * *

Karen tried to focus on the other clients they would have in the next hour. Thomas, the detective and Foggy were engrossed in conversation for close to 20 minutes, Knight always lending a concerned look to her brother beside her. The kid must be suffocating beneath the pressure his sister put him under. But to her credit, if you looked at the charges racked against him, any caring guardian would be worried as hell.

That was when Matt decided to pop into the office. His cane swung onto the floorboard and Karen was never more over-joyed to hear it and see him. She went to him, took his bag and went straight to the point; "Matt, Detective Knight and her brother are here."

He cursed under his breath, "Oh sorry I overslept." He walked forwards to her desk to get the Braille file she prepped for him she always left in the same place when he was late.

"Um, Matt?" She wondered, when he had it in his hands, but wasn't bringing up the elephant in the room.

"Is something the matter?"

"No," she sighed, leaning her weight on her desk. "I don't have to tell you what you already know." Karen casted a quick glance at the conference room; "She wanted to know about Ben, she thinks we're in cahoots with Daredevil. This kind of overlapping is way too much; we could be digging ourselves into a hole."

There she said it. She was honest. But he did not share her opinion. "It won't come to that, I spoke to her, one-on-one and her brother is her priority she's not here to come after Ben or us. I gave her my word."

"Fine," she relented, sternly. _This coming from someone who fought adamantly to keep her out of their firm?_ His explanation had been short and unsatisfactory because he was late to the meeting. Matt gave his word to the Detective, and it was cemented in history. There was no retracting a promise once he made it. Karen learnt that from first hand experience. If the detective trusted them enough to represent her brother, her own flesh and blood, their prior quarrels must be buried.

"Don't worry, Karen," he said with an easy smile that relaxed her, "we've got this."

* * *

"Matt, there you are," Nelson's eyes followed his partner as he entered behind them.

"Detective, Thomas, good morning, how are you?" He asked Thomas next to her, swinging his cane to find the chair.

"Good," he replied curtly, in a temper because Riley had forced him to attend the meeting. He gave the obvious I-don't-want-be-here disinterested pout, and that was the limit of his contribution to the discussion of his freedom thus far.

"Murdock we're almost done here. We're on a schedule, we need to go back to the hospital," Riley told him.

"I'm sorry for the delay," Riley thought she saw his mouth twitch. "I thought you were discharged?" Asked Murdock.

Riley barked a laugh, shook her head at Tommy disapprovingly, "not with my consent."

"I'm not a minor; I can sign my own forms thank you very much."

She angled herself to him, "you need withdrawal medication," she reminded rigidly. He kept forgetting-or rather choosing to forget- what happens when you quit drugs.

"We'll wrap this up then. Please continue," said Murdock.

"Long story short, we can drop the charges for reckless endangerment and manslaughter," explained Nelson.

"How come?"

"Natalie, she's alive." There it was once more, Thomas discomfort whenever Riley uttered her name as if it were sacred and she was blasphemously using it. "We—I contacted her and she doesn't want to press charges. However, it goes without saying, they won't let him go scot-free."

"Distribution of a controlled substance', Knight said it would be exactly what she would charge her brother with if they weren't related," Nelson repeated to Murdock.

Murdock nodded, pleased. "This is an excellent development; we could reduce the sentence from there."

It was nice to put a film over the underlying issues, ignoring the realities of what could happen to her brother if Nelson & Murdock lost this case-even in it's less forbidding circumstances. It was a flimsy sort of protection she could not rely on.

"I hope so."

* * *

When the meeting closed they stood outside Nelson & Murdock, Tommy still bemoaned her insistence that he return to the hospital for further treatment.

"I don't want to go back."

Riley was not having any of it. It was not as if she could keep an eye on him 24/7 if he started to convulse. There was no such thing as take-your-former-drug-addict-brother-to-work day either. "You might be fooling those nerds in there, but not me. It takes one to know one, and I know you're about to go into withdrawal." She steered him by the shoulder to the stairs; "You need those meds."

She dropped Tommy off at the hospital and left a great deal happier than when she arrived. Tommy had listened to her and agreed to leave for California once his treatment was complete. She had lived there once when she got her first job. Memories of sun-kissed skin and the wind threading through her hair made her long to return and put roots down there. But for some bizarre reason, this stinking, corrupt city always won her heart over.

At the station she had other ducks to get in order. "Sinjon I've been meaning to speak with you," she caught up with her colleague in the precinct car park.

He didn't even meet her glance, brushing her off instantly; "Knight, I'm a little busy."

"What are you doing?"

"Need to drive to the commissioner's office."

"I'll drive you," she gripped the driver side door handle before he could reach it. He bristled at her forcefulness but didn't fight her.

"The DA's taken an interest in you I heard," said Sinjon when she started the car.

"You've been listening to water cooler gossip? I didn't take you for the kind of man to partake."

"I've enjoyed your leave from the precinct, things are a lot more peaceful without your yapping."

 _Guess somethings never change and we're still_ _assholes to each other_. "Then it was a crap idea to let me drive you." She drove in silence for a few minutes, deciding whether or not it was a terrible idea to tell him what happened the night Tommy was threatened, the night Daria was murdered. It had ended abruptly like someone shaking you from a dream. But she had the bandage around her sprained wrist to remind her it had been very real.

She chose her words carefully; "I don't want to know what you've found on your investigation, but I need to tell you what happened. You do what you want with the information, but leave me out of it."

Riley had not forgotten Susan, Daria's roommate who she found bleeding to death in their shared flat. She researched 'Gardner' the man who broke into the flat while she was there investigating but gained nothing conducive. The girl had not woken from the medically induced coma yet either.

"I thought it would bring a new perspective to the investigation," she said after finishing her story. Frank looked perplexed.

"Why are you telling me this? Why not go ahead and look into it yourself?"

"Sharing is caring," she jeered. "And like you I have been busy, you can leave work but the work doesn't leave you." One way or another the universe had pulled her into case after case, despite the Captain's 'best interest' to keep her out of it the precinct's affairs.

The gravity of what she had told him suddenly hit Frank like a ton of bricks; "Someone big wants to know why she was killed. Knight if it's _them_ —"

"I don't want to know. Please."

"This is right up your alley, I don't know why you left this case."

"Humphrey—"

"Yeah Humphrey was a jackass, but your place isn't hunting down costumed freaks for the DA. It's being a vice detective."

The stoplight turned from red to green but she was so stunned by his earnest confession, compliment even, that she almost did not hit the pedal in time. "Frank you're…acting weird. Like, nice. I was expecting you to grunt at me to lay off your investigation, not this."

"I'm telling it how it is."

They pulled up at the commissioner's office. "Is that all you have to tell me?" She wondered giving him the third degree.

Sinjon's eyes shifted like he'd been caught in a lie, but he put himself together and gave her a solid nod; "Yes," he said with stiff formality.

Riley did not buy a second of it, and Sinjon was out of the car when she stopped without even a goodbye.

* * *

The sex trafficking, those 'PI's' investigating on behalf of some cloaked benefactor; Riley questioned whether she was really putting her energy and effort in the right place with the anti-vigilante task force, or whether it should be more spread. Likewise, if it were distributed too thinly she might lose her sanity in the process. She was holding onto too many threads, and if she pulled too hard each would snap. She could not possibly cope with the stress as it piled on. The last time her life was at the tipping point of going up in flames she had turned to alcohol to soothe her woes and allow her to forget them for a night, or two, or three, or four.

 _But I won't allow myself to fall into that black hole. I am stronger than this_.

She was at the hospital. Riley felt Tommy's forehead as he slept. He was too warm, violently shivering beneath the covers even in the hottest summer day. He wasn't sleeping well, tossing and turning in a fit of nightmares and demons she could not ward off.

He would have to endure it, like she had; the knowledge that she had survived a drug withdrawal didn't make seeing her brother in pain any less nerve wracking. _When he is better, when he leaves for California, maybe I'll see things clearer._ It was far easier said than done. There was one more avenue she could take, but there was no turning back from it if she did.

* * *

The next day she felt a drive and a purpose after a meeting in the morning with DA Reyes. The woman was giving her unbridled attention to this task force. It set her on a surer path to apprehending this gang or man who was on a murder streak, and to a lesser extent Daredevil. At her desk she pushed a few strewn papers aside to glance at narrowed map of Daredevil's possible base of operations.

This kind of evidence was thin and Riley did not want to give it to Reyes or Alfonso until she was confident with it. That was what she had intended initially, but at the moment her reasons for keeping what she calculated a secret were a little more personal. Daredevil could be her key to saving her brother and she could not hand over a golden opportunity until she had what she wanted.

She downed her coffee and set off into the busy streets beyond the precinct at a brisk pace. Summer rainstorms hindered commuters journeys in the morning and still in the late afternoon the clouds hung stubbornly.

She saw Matt Murdock walking in the opposite street to her and she shouted to him as loud as possible. "Murdock!" He stopped, frown deepening, and his cane straightening. Even at this distance she could tell she had interrupted a thought. She looked both directions and crossed the street.

"It's Knight," she panted after jogging to him.

"Oh hello. How are you?" His head bobbed up and down, he still seemed to be frowning, face angled somewhere just above her shoulder.

"Good. Where's your other half?"

"Meeting Wes Cleon, the kid took a liking to Foggy, talks to him for hours."

She smiled teasingly, "I guess your charm didn't work on him." Murdock and she had formed a sort of begrudging working relationship, civil but with witty banter to keep her on her toes. She could lower her suspicions now that the task force had another target besides Daredevil.

He smiled a little. "All right, tease all you want, I can admit we didn't see eye to eye. I'm sorry if I forgot, but did we have a meeting scheduled?" He looked in a rush to get passed her.

"No, I was in the vicinity, and I found you. I need to have a word."

"About the case? How is Tommy by the way?" Murdock switched his cane to his left hand and he was easing around her but she shuffled a closer.

"Not entirely, if you could please spare a few minutes, I could walk you back to your office while we chat?"

He hesitated, which she shouldn't take as a surprise given their history but she only needed a few minutes and Riley was determined to get them. "Sure," he agreed, cordial albeit stiffly.

She stared closer at the white on his cane, saw a smudge on it, then at his right arm and the pavement below it.

"Murdock." It sounded funny for her to even mention it; "your sleeve, there's something on it."

"Oh," his fist curled into a ball and he darted backwards, holding his arm to hide it from her.

His shadow moved with him and sunlight shone on the dark droplets on the cement and the red stains. She let out a law gasp; "That's blood. God, what happened?"

"Nothing, it was an accident," he held onto his arm, squeezing it, backing from her slightly, all of a sudden anxious and jumpy. His reaction threw her off completely.

"Did you fall?" She pressed on. Nobody could hide the telltale bloodstains on a dress shirt. Riley had sported her own in the past and she knew their appearance, like the back of her hand.

"Yeah, something like that," he replied vague and closed off.

The way he was acting it was more like she was holding him at gunpoint, mugging him rather than offering to help him.

"The station is less two than blocks away I can stitch you up, or I can take you to a hospital if you would prefer that."

She took two steps to him and he hunched his shoulders defensively. "You don't have to do that."

"That's not a scab you accidentally picked open, that needs medical attention," she reprimanded with her cop-voice.

"I'm fine," he gritted, "I can manage; Foggy will know what to do."

"Really?" She guffawed, "he was squeamish just listening to me talk about the gang massacre over the weekend. Besides you're going to walk all the way back to your office bleeding out?" She shook her head, unfaltering and latched onto his elbow, "Not on my watch."

* * *

"Murdock," she said in a tone that made him think he was under arrest, after the umpteenth time he tried to get her to leave him alone.

He hated the obligation people had to helping a the blind man no matter how many times he said no, even if their intention was genuine. Matt's mind was racing at a hundred miles per hour, nerves alight trying to find the perfect lie to give when she asked questions. Because of course she was going to ask them.

The wound had bothered him since the meeting in the morning. The skin was stretching itself to the precipice of breaking, but he ignored it due to the large number of clients they had. During lunch he had been walking fleet footed to get his own medical attention when he felt the stitches on the bullet graze Knight had given him, break.

 _Testing my limits too much last night, it's my fault this happened._

She was deaf to his protests and insistence that he could take care of it on his own. To her, Murdock was a stumbling blind man who needed pity and guidance and she was a police officer with a solemn vow to serve and protect.

Before he knew it he was caroled into the med bay at the 15th, Knight tugging him along as if she meant to pull his other arm out of its socket in her haste to get him there. He was internally enraged that it had come this far.

But when she pushed a chair towards him and settled him into it, she treated him with sympathy. Not as expertly compassionate as Claire but still very kind. She helped him shrug out of his suit jacket, one handed and sluggishly he undid his tie. There was no hiding the blood stains now.

She rolled over to him on a stool with the first aid kit accessible on her right. Knight was calm as she methodically prepared herself with nitrile gloves, rolling her sleeves up, and opening packets of medical supplies.

Her stool moved even closer and he had to acclimatize to her proximity. The strength of that scent she naturally gave off hitting his head as he swallowed and kept stalling the inevitable by not removing his shirt. "I'm not going to be able to help you if I can't get to the injury, Murdock," she said, stonily, caging her gloved fingers in her lap. "Just one sleeve will do, whatever you're comfortable with, let's get on with it, I don't have all day."

"You should've have been a nurse, your beside manner is very gentle," he said dryly.

She pursed her lips unhappily, but he complied and unbuttoned his shirt enough to ease out the injured arm. The cold AC blew onto his bare chest, he kept his shirt positioned to reveal as little as he had too. He would never be able to explain the other scars he bore if she saw them. _Jesus, what the hell am I doing?_

She hissed the moment it came to view, the copper smell of blood devoured the air around them, but he was used to it by now. The open stitches had not ripped much, not even as deep as the original wound, yet had gushed an uncommonly large amount of blood.

He had been so focused on listening to his own body he flinched when she prodded the wound. "Sorry," she softly laid her fingers on his arm, the trace of her hot breath gliding over his exposed skin.

She hummed as she closely inspected it, "Oh my. The skin is mostly healed, three of the stitches are ripped which started the bleeding," she described as she threaded the sterilized needle. "It's a nasty graze, how did you get it?"

 _From your bullet._ "Bike messenger," he answered, like he would as if he was on the stand. He had to keep his voice cool. She could not suspect a thing.

He waited for her admonishment, to wheedle out that he was lying. _This is when she figures it out, miraculously, that I am Daredevil._ Yet… he was eerily sober about the whole thing, like he had been waiting for this since the moment they met. Even before the docks when he was in his Daredevil suit. Much earlier; when it was the jewel heist trial, and they were two adversaries, her eyes burning into him during his cross examination of her.

To his sheer surprise she chuckled, with a vibrancy that made him forget why he was even there in the first place. "No way, I've been knocked over by those assholes too, not like they stopped to check on the girl groveling in pain on the pavement. I got five stitches into my chin. I tell anyone who asks I was sucker punched by a mobster."

He let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. His mouth quirked upwards, "much cooler than getting knocked over by a bike messenger."

"Definitely. Alright, I'm about to start, it'll sting a little bit."

"Meanwhile I'll judge your first aid skills too, just saying," he cocked his head a fraction, the needle poked into his skin. "OW."

She froze, hissing through her teeth, apologising profusely; "Oh crap, sorry, sorry, I really didn't mean to—"

It was only when she saw his flippant smile that she realized he had been faking it. "It actually didn't hurt at all."

Knight glowered at him; "If you don't watch what you say I may have to sew your mouth shut." He only grinned wider as she continued her ministrations. The sensation of his heart thudding against his ribcage slowed to a moderate pace. He might get away with this after all. She was too logical to see that his ability to become Daredevil _defied_ all logic. He was safe.

"So how many times have you had to do this yourself?" He asked, maintaining light conversation.

"Around two dozen times, I always like to keep in practice," she was done quickly and tied off the thread.

But then his shirt loosened a bit, just enough to reveal too much. The hollow of her throat deepened when she caught sight of the scar on his lower abdomen, the one Nobu gave him. It matched the colour of his skin, he barely noticed it himself these days. She was very quiet, staring at it, some primal instinct moved her to reach down to it, to brush her fingers over it. His muscle rippled as he felt the charge of her fingers waver over the scar, almost touching, but not yet.

Matt loudly cleared his throat and shifted as far as he could away from her. She looked at his face sheepishly as if she'd been caught with her hand in a cookie jar.

"Are you almost done? I have to get back to work."

Her eyes scanned him diligently, brows knitted, and he could not do a thing about it, he swallowed the lump in his throat. Then she shook her head, as if shaking sense into her thoughts. "Yes, sorry," her free hand rejoined the busy one and she cleaned the stitches.

He was about to retract his arm from her when she held the back of his wrist, he had a flash of the memory of being handcuffed, and had to maintain a colossal level of willpower not to fiercely yank her towards him and pin her down on the ground. Instead, with a wet towel she wiped the dried blood off, pressing his skin with long strokes. She was gentler than he expected.

Finally he was released. She got out of her chair and reorganised the first aid kit as he got his clothes in order, back turned to her. He prayed she thought it was a surgical scar. He recalled what Karen said; _too much overlapping...digging ourselves into a hole._ She was right, it was too much.

She held his coat out to him. "Thanks." He slid it on, "so what did you need to talk to me about?"

She chewed on her bottom lip. "Murdock…" Knight opened and closed her mouth. She inclined her head towards him. Her words burst as if she was breaking a dam.

"I know."

Matt forgot to breathe. "What do you mean?"

"I know everything."

* * *

A/N: Hello everyone! My, oh my have I missed you all. I got this out later than I wanted because I was on vacation. Quite a few similarities to S2 here, hope you enjoyed it anyway!


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey peeps! I know it's been forever, and I have the usual excuses: exams, exams, exams and we're only a little over a month into the semester! *sigh* med school...**

 **I didn't want to deprive you guys any longer especially after that cliffhanger, so this is a shortened version of a fuller chapter that I already have written but not edited.**

 **Enjoy! xoxo**

* * *

"About what?" His stomach felt as if it was full of eels. He formulated a plan to retaliate, to deny her claims until she was silent. Then he thought of the immediate danger of the situation, _what if she attacks me?_ He would have to stand there and take the blow…or the bullet.

"I want to talk to him," she said in a firm tone.

"Who?"

"Daredevil."

It took a second for it to hit Matt that she still thought Daredevil was a completely different person, someone Matt Murdock the lawyer was _associated_ with. Not his alter ego. "I have never met the guy in my life," he lied. He straightened his suit jacket; a part of Matt wanted to laugh at her, for being wrong countlessly, but that would give the game away.

She lifted both hands to the ceiling; "I'm not trying to catch you out here. My cell phone is in my car, and I have no wires on me. If you don't believe that, you're welcome to check."

"I believe you." This was so bizarre; he had no clue where the rest of this conversation might lead too.

"I want to meet him."

"Knight—"

"Murdock. You didn't think I was going to let you off the hook, did you?" Her tone was calm and flat. "You told me what happened when Sinjon and I found Wes."

"Wes told me," argued Matt.

"Don't play stupid. I got to him first, remember?"

 _Shit._ He had to think this through a second time before he opened his mouth again. "Hypothetically speaking... if I could deliver him, how could I be sure you wouldn't capture him in a sting operation? Implicate myself, and my firm for associating ourselves with him? It would be the end of Nelson and Murdock."

"Because I would be implicated in the process," she pointed out.

He quirked a brow, maintaining the bluff; "You've worked with him before? You've met him?" _Foggy's right, it's weird to talk about myself in third person._ It was less risky to lie, ask deflective questions and make himself appear fascinated by what she was asking of him.

"Indeed I had the pleasure," she said in a tone that suggested the opposite.

"You trust me enough to admit this to me?" Besides their alliance through Thomas they were not friends to start with. A secret like this could destroy Knight. She could go to prison, and doubtlessly her criminal inmates would beat a cop to death, even worse, a cop who helped a vigilante. She was risking her entire world by trusting him, and Matt didn't know what to make of it.

Knight was on a roll, she had paved out much of this before she saw him on the other side of the street, if she was 100% certain how this would play out. "I judged your character from the moment I met you; a slippery bastard, sure, but a man of integrity, duty, honor. Values many people have forgotten are worth commending in this day and age. I'm asking for you to reach out. I don't want any more run-ins, or drop-ins, and coincidences. I need certainty," she empathized the last part. She definitely had something up her sleeve, and Matt was intrigued, when he should be very worried.

He kept playing the suspicious fool; "This sounds like a colorful lie you've painted. I don't believe it, yet I don't know why you would make it up either." None of it was a lie; she was inches from the truth, literally and figuratively. He wanted to shake his head at it, laugh at it. If she only figured out that despite being blind he had enhanced senses, then she would have solved the biggest mystery Hell's Kitchen. She was her own roadblock.

"It's not a lie." It annoyed her that he made it seem so. She sighed heavily through her nose and collected his cane from the desk. "Unless I'm crazy."

A few steps and she was in front of him, he listened to the even rise and fall of her chest. "Am I?" Her voice wavered slightly.

She took his hand and guided him, she tapped his cane against his wrist; he clutched it and nodded his thanks.

It would be easy, too easy; to tell her she was insane. Confirm the falsehood that everyone at the precinct already believed; a detective, blindsided by Fisk, paranoid, former addict, PTSD sufferer. They could use Thomas against her; _I could use Thomas against her._ It was cut and dry, and Riley Knight's reputation would be reduced to dust, a laughing stock for officers to chuckle into their coffee cups, delighted they had not disgraced themselves as she had.

But Matt…he could not do that. He didn't have it in him. His secret be damned. "Tell me why," he said.

She stepped away from him, watching him closely. "Being his lawyer you deserve to know; Tommy was threatened by the mafia. I had to willingly forfeit my duty to save many innocents for to him survive." She crossed her arms and leaned on the stretcher, staring at her shoes. "I wanted to let it go, but then I couldn't sleep, knowing what I'd done. He's agreed to leave New York, but he can't do that if he's serving a sentence here, they can get to him." She cast a glance at him, brows furrowed in dismay. "They'll use him to twist my arm into looking the other way."

Matt acted surprised by this, but inside he did not understand why she was jumping to this solution, his firm was representing Thomas. His word was his bond; her brother would not go to jail. He shook his head, a hard look on his face. "He will be a free man."

"Is that a dream you think will come true?" She asked in a serious, rational tone. "At best he'll get unsupervised probation. And that's if the court can get him a motion to leave the state and serve it somewhere far from New York."

"We have to try first."

"You're forgetting that I'm in this system too. I know how it works."

He gritted his teeth in frustration, "You should have more faith in us."

"Maybe you can help, or maybe you can't. I can't gamble on his life."

She was right though, about everything. If Thomas wasn't her brother and he came in with a distribution of a controlled substance charge, the reality of what happened next was indisputable. Especially after the Fisk scandal, no one was getting any special treatment. The DA needed to make examples of even the most menial crimes, and exaggerated their charges. Even stories like Thomas' were twisted to make him sound like an evil drug lord with an empire spanning from New York to Mexico. When he was just a kid, with an unfortunate childhood who made bad choices.

"What about the people you work with? Do they know?"

"I want to trust my colleagues, but we're under too much surveillance, and their intentions aren't clear. What I can do is destroy the people who want to hurt him." He eyes bore into him, he felt like he was being x-rayed, not the other way around like it usually was.

"Even if that means I have to make a deal with the devil."

* * *

Thunder rumbled across the sky promising rain, a break from the heat they were having. The wind stirred her hair across her brow as she peeped over the edge of the rooftop. A few children were running inside their walk-ups when their mother hollered for them to get inside as it got darker. Besides them, the street and the tops of the buildings were quiet. _Fitting,_ Riley thought, _the calm before the storm._ Her breath quickened for a moment as she hesitated about her decision, what was she really getting herself into?

When Riley confronted Murdock at the station, she honestly had been throwing the dice then. But she had stood her ground and look where she was standing now. On a rooftop in Hell's Kitchen waiting for the meet with Daredevil she had arranged through the defence lawyer. She gave the time and place, and it was his job to make sure the red-masked devil showed up on time.

Which he didn't.

Riley paced, stopped, tapped her foot, repeated this for another 25 minutes, growing impatient. Lights were turning on in the windows of the homes of New Yorkers around her, each with a story to tell, but nothing quite like hers. _He is holding me in suspense, making_ me _sweat._ This tactic worked, she used it on her own snitches too.

Maybe he was watching her, scoping the surroundings to ensure she was not luring him into a trap.

Steel rang behind her. Even though she was expecting it her chest jolted a little. She glanced behind her as Daredevil's form descended from the shadows and into the light. She was used to seeing him by now, fighting him, being attacked by him, yet she still wanted to make a run for it or get her gun out.

"Are you usually this tardy?" She demanded with forced casualness, better to get whatever banter they would have out of the way and get down to business.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," he smirked, drawing closer, "I had to be thorough."

"You didn't trust Murdock when he told you?"

"I trust him. Not you." He stopped a few feet from her, arms crossed. "You summoned me here, what do you want."

"I think you know already."

"A partnership. I knew you would come around, detective," he quipped.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Before you go smiling smugly and bragging, you have to understand what happens from here," she said, guarded.

"I'm all ears."

With a moment of indecisiveness she reached into her jacket pockets, trying to shake the reality of what was playing before her. Aliens descending from a black hole were more normal than this. "When Daria died, a lot of people wanted to know why and how. One of them was man who knocked me out in the alley you found me in, Daria had pictures in her coat, and he wanted them." She held out the pictures for him to grab from her; "Have a look."

He didn't moved instantly, but eventually he came closer and flipped through them and didn't say anything; it was weird that he didn't at least have a comment. "I know they're blurry," she agreed since Daredevil was probably having a hard time trying to figure out what he was seeing. "Despite the bad angle, those are definitely drugs, she was trying to frame someone."

"Can I keep these?"

"Yes."

"Which brings us to why your brother was threatened."

She licked her lips, she had never told him specifically that it was Thomas who was in trouble, it was gnawing at her that he knew enough about her life to know she had a brother _._ Or more likely Murdock had mentioned it to Daredevil. "Precisely," she said breathing out. "Long story short, he won't be safe until I figure this out and get the justice those girls deserve." She gestured to him; "that's where you come in."

"Do you have a plan?"

There was no way she was going to rush into this before discussing terms and conditions first. The problem was whether the vigilante would listen to her or not.

"I need to lay down a few things first. I've never been a stickler for the rules, but it's not easy to do that these days, which is why I've resorted to this. There's someone else out there dropping bodies whom they want in a cell more than you, but it won't last. And soon they'll return their attention to you. We'll need to be careful."

"The DA's inspired you, has she?" He clearly did not hold her in the same regard as the precinct did; _he probably sides with defense lawyers like Matt Murdock when it comes to his opinion of the DA._

She ignored him; "Protocol will come first; I set the meetings," she said rigidly, "no more dropping into my apartment to steal my gun. The rest is common sense; if we happen upon each other at a crime scene you do _not_ interact with me." Riley had accepted that she was certifiably insane for doing this, but the truth coming out because of a misstep like that would be her worst nightmare come true.

"We do this my way; you do the surveillance that I can't do."

He shrugged a shoulder, leaning on the wall; "Basically do the dirty work for you," said Daredevil, wryly.

"Basically," she agreed bluntly. "And if you need your fists to the do the talking, try not to put anyone in the hospital, we need suspects to be conscious." That was another issue this partnership presented; somehow she would have to teach him restraint. "I will keep the task force off you, but you're going to have to get smarter with your exit strategies if you don't want to get caught."

He stayed quiet and thought for a moment; "And what's in it for me?" He asked.

"Excuse me? This is what you wanted, a partnership." He was in no position to make demands, _that's what you get when you agree to work with an erratic, impulsive, vigilante. He's a total wild card._

"Sounds a lot more like a dictatorship." As she opened her mouth to retort, he lunged at her. Riley barely moved aside in time when he yanked her arm behind her and her cheek was squashed against the wall. It wasn't enough pressure to incite any pain but she couldn't get out of the lock. She flailed against him to free herself, his hand appeared in her front jean pocket and she swore she would rip his head off. As quickly as it happened he released her. Riley was recoiling from him, loaded with hateful curses when she saw what he held between his fingers.

"Do you tag all your partners like dogs?"

 _Fuck._

He found the tracking chip. It was a Plan B in case the meet fell through. The chip was as light as a button, durable and could snag onto any dry material. Perfect to track Daredevil as long as it didn't rain. Plan B was about to burn Plan A to the ground. She wracked her brain for an explanation, as he dropped it and gladly crushed it with his boot. "I won't tolerate any secret schemes you have to capture me."

Her mouth went round and she blinked at it, then glared at him. "That prototype costs half a grand!"

"This was what you wanted wasn't it?" He demanded, low and menacing, she backed off at an angle away from the wall so he couldn't pin her again. "To lure me here and plant a tracker on me."

"You should note that I didn't use it," she hissed, he was still angry, clenching his fists, breathing hard. "Cut me some slack, I have a lot more to lose here than you do. I could have put that on you, but I didn't. It'd be easier if you took that mask off, but that's not gonna happen." It was a long while before the tension uncoiled from his shoulders, somehow he could sympathize with her, he stopped and listened.

"...But I trust Murdock, you're not a criminal to him, and if you were a killer, he would never have associated himself with you." He was raised in a Catholic orphanage and still frequented Mass without fail; those core values he takes home from church must stick with him everyday.

"You trust Murdock?" He wondered, with a bemused look she couldn't place.

"Yeah." She took her time, steadied her gaze on him and closed the distance between them until her face was an inch from his. In menacing tones she said; "One more thing... if this goes sideways and you threaten my brother or anyone else I care about, you better leave this city because I will never stop hunting you."

He looked uncomfortable, but didn't flinch, didn't try to lunge at her again. He said; "The same goes for you. I have allies too, you don't touch them and you don't go after me, or else."

She took a step back. "Fair enough," she said, comparatively easy-going to a second ago and held out her hand for a shake that he accepted. "Here's how we start."

* * *

Matt warned Foggy to stay quiet for the entire duration of his recount of last night's events. His friend looked like he was going to have a coronary as he struggled to keep his mouth shut.

"Let me get this straight," Foggy burst when Matt was barely finished. "She asked you, Matt Murdock, to get her a meeting with Daredevil," he gestured out one hand, "And you, as Daredevil agreed, and met her," he held out the other. "Thereby confirming her suspicious that the two _separate_ entities are working together," he meshed his hands together.

"Yup."

"You idiot!" He threw his hands at him. "You couldn't have asked yourself, hold on maybe this _might_ just be a bad idea? And you didn't think it would be a good idea to consult me first!"

He gave that nonchalant one shoulder shrug that Foggy hated. "I had it handled."

He rubbed his temple, a tension headache developing. "You practically admitted to her that Nelson & Murdock are in cahoots with Daredevil! Or you, or…you know what I mean!" He said, frustrated.

"And by asking me to arrange a meeting with him, she's incriminated herself too," he repeated coolly. "We put our cards on the table and neither can one up the other." It was just what he wanted really. He could work around her rules, and he never intended to interact with her in anyway to land her in trouble. There would be no point in losing an ally in the police force if he was going to indefinitely continue being Daredevil. There was Brett too, but this arrangement was much better, and more to his advantage.

Except he wasn't sure if he was going to enjoy taking orders from her. _We'll cross that bridge when we get there._

"It may look like you're at a détente but you never know what card she'll play next. Next thing you know, you're disbarred, and we'll be in orange jumpsuits sharing bunk beds at Riker's Island."

"Hey, you always thought we should've moved in together," Matt cracked wisely.

"Not funny," said Foggy through slit eyes. "What about Karen, what will happen to her?"

Another question Matt wasn't prepared to answer. "I know what Knight wants. We have similar goals," he was deflecting, but he had listened to Knight's heartbeat when she spoke to him. She wasn't lying about her conundrum; there was a nervous flutter in the steady rhythm, which likely came from the idea of meeting Daredevil in such a cordial manner, until of course he tackled her to the wall. Things could have gone sour from there, but they had not.

She was genuinely apologetic for almost tagging him with the tracking chip…though Matt did not mention this to Foggy.

"And what if she decides to change them, mmhm?" Foggy mused, unconvinced. "Does Daredevil have anything against her in case she steps out of line? I don't know, like her brother for example?" He wondered dubiously.

Matt frowned at him; "Are you asking me if I threatened her?"

"I'm scared of your answer," said Foggy, dejectedly. Matt had a switch, when turned off; he could throw people off rooftops and put them in comas. _Why is Foggy still my friend?_

"I mentioned the consequences of double-crossing me, _after_ she told me she would hunt me down like an animal if I went after Thomas."

Foggy nodded, rubbing his chin in thought. "She's smart. You have to be careful; she's talking to Daredevil, not you. You have to be on your watch with her 24/7."

"I know that," he said with mild exasperation.

"I'm telling you anyway," Foggy shot back.

"Yes, mum." He lifted the photos from the coffee table and handed them to Foggy. This was one of those rare occasions when he genuinely could not use his senses in an investigation. "I asked you to come over to look at these for me."

Foggy took them and squinted at the first picture, then back at Matt confused. "I don't have to tell you that you're a bad photographer, because… well duh, you're— _whoaaa_ that is definitely not icing sugar." He held the picture of what Matt assumed must be the cocaine closer to his eyes. The images must not be of high quality. Foggy described them to him.

"Knight thinks Daria was using them to blackmail the mafia—"

"—Alrighty, well, I don't really want to know more than that," Foggy cut him off; he always got sweaty and uncomfortable if Matt ever brought his Daredevil business back home.

He tossed the pictures back on the coffee table. "What if she figures out you're Daredevil, what then?"

He sighed, the exhaustion of the previous night catching up to him he let out a small laugh; "She won't."

"Don't snicker," Foggy wagged a finger at him, and then smiled knowingly; "Hell, I bet you're going to tell her anyway."

"What? What makes you think that?"

"Because she's hot," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Foggy—"

He held up his finger, making muffled noises with his mouth, "No, no don't dare you say it."

"How would I know?" They said at the same time, Matt berating and Foggy imitating his friend.

"No more of that!" Foggy snapped his fingers at him. "You have a weakness for beautiful, dangerous women, Matty."

"Okay, that was college me," he admitted, "and that was in the past."

"Oh my friend, you are in denial."

* * *

 **A/N: next chapter we have their mission together! Can't wait to post that for you guys to read! :))**


	10. Chapter 10

Hey guys! So sorry again for such a long wait, but life just hit me like a ton of bricks. In late November, my computer stopped working and I lost all my files, including lecture notes and also Murdock & Knight drafts for future chapters :'( I've tried to rewrite it to the best of my ability, hope you guys like it!

* * *

She crouched against the wall unzipping the duffel bag in front of her. Riley checked her watch, two minutes to 10pm. _He's really cutting it close, isn't he?_ Being punctual to her meant being at least 5 minutes early to wherever you needed to be. She had a whole list of things to explain to him before the mission started, a fact the vigilante was probably aware of and avoiding just because he could.

She checked her watch again for the fifth time in the span of a minute. The hand wasn't going any faster or slower. _What if he sold me out?_ She swallowed that dangerous thought. The possibility had been gnawing at her the entire day. She had been jumpy even when Alfie rang her earlier that day, she'd half-expected to sing a swan song after he announced she was to be arrested for associating herself with a vigilante. But he'd just called to check up on her.

Daredevil had no cause to sell her out since this whole deal was mutually beneficial. Still, it was that undying sense of betrayal to the force, knowing what she was doing was totally wrong and whatever consequences bore down on her, she knew she deserved it.

Ten seconds to 10pm and the soft pad of footsteps made her whip her head in its direction.

And there he was, walking over to her, Daredevil costume blood red in the night. For 10 seconds she re-thought every step, every decision she made that led to this insane moment. Riley accepted them and stood to meet him.

"Did you think I wouldn't show?" He said, holding his hands out.

"Thought you would at least try to be here a little earlier, instead of right on the dot," she tapped her watch, annoyed.

"I had to take care of something, beforehand." There was a bit of smeared blood on his 5 o clock shadow, she didn't make much of it. They'd agreed that she would stay out of whatever crime fighting he did besides helping her. A busted lip wasn't her problem.

"Whatever, let me explain what the plan is tonight." Their target was a former captain for the Italian mafia, on early release and on probation that he was blatantly violating under everyone's noses. He was between jobs, and with the new power vacuum in the city, would be trying to make good with every major gang, playing the field, before an obvious winner could be identified. Riley had been trying to identify the men who knocked her out in the alley, and he could potentially be one of the ones that snuck up on her.

"Last note; I need you to wear this," she held the ear bud to Daredevil and quickly put up her other palm as a precaution to prevent him from freaking out on her and pinning her to the wall like last time. "Chill; it's not a tracking device, it's a com device. This bit goes into your ear, the other on your suit. I'll have this ear bud and mic on too. We'll be able to communicate better this way."

He shook his head adamantly. "I'm not wearing that."

She rolled her eyes to the sky, "how else am I supposed to know what's going on in there?"

"I can put that on," he indicted to the mic, "but not the ear bud."

She was beginning to think that this red-suited freak might actually be an incredibly luckly well-muscled idiot rather than certifiably insane. "Com devices don't work like that, smart ass. What am I gonna do? Yell at you from all the way over here?"

He looked at her, as if he was the one who needed to be patient with her instead of opposite; "I don't need the ear bud to be able to hear you."

 _Is he trying to make a dig at how loud I am?_ "I don't know what you're getting at."

"Talk at this volume, and I'll hear you," he repeated as serious as lung cancer. Riley was missing an elephant in the room at this point as she stared at him perplexed, she didn't enjoy being made a fool of.

It finally hit her, crossing her mind like a lightning bolt. "Wait," she stopped, and he did too. "Are you…one of those, enhanced individuals?"

He titled his head to and fro weighing that description; "Kind of."

"You have super powered hearing?"

He paused for a long second, as if deciding how much he could divulge to her. "Yeah, nothing special really," he waved it off nonchalantly as he followed her towards the wall. It wasn't anything to be casual about, Riley found it rather fascinating, how anything was possible these days, though she would never admit that outright.

"Huh. Okay," was her controlled and indifferent response. A lot of things about the vigilante were beginning to make a world of sense. "Well, you're not the only one in the city these days. You make any new friends?" She asked offhandedly. If he was partnering up with the likes of Jessica Jones, that could spell more trouble in the streets for the precinct. It was taking a mini army to capture Daredevil besides.

"I prefer to work alone…most of the time," he added, tilting his head to acknowledge her presence.

"I'm surprised SHIELD didn't try to get a hold of you ages ago, before shit hit the fan." Or maybe they did and he was part of a bigger plan that was far, far above her pay grade. _They must know about him at least_. But SHIELD had been out of the picture for a few years now, and Daredevil had only entered the scene a little over a year ago.

He gave a one-shouldered shrug, "I guess I'm not important enough." She should be grateful that that spy agency had not whisked him away into confinement. Hell's Kitchen needed some kind of beacon of hope after the Incident; _another thing he's never going to hear coming out of my mouth._

Riley checked her watch, it was not the time or place for this conversation. "For the purpose of not revealing my identity, my code name is Alpha. Yours is D."

"D?" He guffawed, "you've got to be kidding me."

"I don't really know how to make jokes these days," she plugged her ear with her ear piece. "From here on out, it'll make our correspondence swifter, now put the mic on, he's almost here."

The frustrated twist to his mouth suggested he didn't want the discussion of codenames to end. He clipped it onto his suit and proceeded to the edge of the roof. With a moment's hesitation she called after him; "good luck!"

He glanced over his shoulder at her and nodded once. _Well, that's all the camaraderie I'll get out of this._ She listened as he landed in the opposite building and entered through the sun window as according to the blue prints she procured-which for some odd reason he found completely useless. _How does he plan his missions if he doesn't know what landscape to expect?_

"Can you hear me?" She inquired, forgetting for a second that he had enhanced abilities.

" _Loud and clear."_

* * *

" _Remember what I said; restraint."_

"Copy that, Alpha," replied Matt, not too happy with how this was going so far. _This will take some getting used too, let's hope we're not at each other's throats prematurely_. He listened to the hitman climb up the stairs. He smoked roughly a pack of cigarettes a day and was in the midst of smoking his last one whilst fumbling for his keys. _If I don't harm him, cancer will instead._

The target stomped the cig out on the ground. As the door eased open, he pounced on him. "What the—"

This close to the man neck he recognised his scent from the alley where he found Knight unconscious. He struggled as the man grunted and tried to throw him off; he was around a hundred pounds heavier than himself but lacked any precision in his swings.

He backed into a wall and crushed Matt against it, taking the chance to draw his gun. Matt's leg came up in an arch and kicked it away, he blocked a punch aimed at his chin and twisted the arm behind his back with enough pressure to sprain his wrist. _That'll teach him to aim that gun where he shouldn't._

He screamed in Matt's ear. His other hand flailed forward and grabbed a screwdriver on the table. He completely released him as it descended at a 90 degree angle for his jugular, narrowly missing it. In that time frame the target dived for his gun once more. But Matt was on him and threw him against a concrete pillar, delivering a punch to his nose. The pair stumbled towards the windows. He only needed to intimidate him enough to get answers.

"I need a name, who do you work for?"

"I'm not telling you shit!" He spat in his face, blood and spit hitting his cheek.

Matt kicked a window open. It was at an angle where the detective would be able to witness the entire interrogation from her vantage point. _"That's him! Careful now!"_ She warned seeing it happen.

He did what he knew would do the trick, holding Gardner by the collar he pulled him towards the windows and held him out, leaning forward enough to have half of the his torso hanging out into open air, a four story drop between them and the sidewalk.

"A name, or it's your end!"

"You wouldn't fucking dare!"

"I've done it before." He loosened his grip enough that Gardner would feel the drag of gravity downwards, Matt heard his heart slam like car breaks.

"Fuck!" Gardner peeked below him and almost wetted himself. The detective was hissing at him to be careful, but in that moment it was him and the criminal, no one else's judgment or rules mattered. "A name!"

Finally, he coughed it up.

"S-Sweeney."

As it hit Matt's ears, it flew over his head; "what?" He yelled for someone who had super human hearing. _No, I misheard, he's lying, he's definitely lying._

"Sweeney! Now fucking let me go."

Gardner, the detective, the city, the universe froze. Matt was taken back to that alley. He was a boy again; his world was new and dark, and frightening. He touched his father's face, felt its familiar smile lines and crows feet, it was wet for some reason, and the smell…

There were no more words of comfort from his father, only silence. Endless silence. Matt's throat tightened in anguish.

As he returned to the present; Knight was screaming in his ear but he was past caring, even listening to any of her commands. A geyser of rage erupted his chest until it was hard to even breathe.

He dropped Gardner.

* * *

Every possible way this could have failed had come true. Riley peered over the edge, she couldn't tell if Gardner was breathing or not. He'd made a crater in a taxi roof, _at least he aimed for something besides the pavement_. "Fuck," she rummaged for her phone in her jacket, "fuck, fuck, fuck." After calling 911, she heard Daredevil return. She glared at him with every intention of shoving him to his doom as well.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" She demanded, her fingers in claws ready to rip him to shreds. "We do one mission together and you already found a way to screw it up!"

"I got you what you wanted, didn't I?" He lashed out.

"A name. That's it. How much help do you think that'll be? We could have asked him about his partner, why he was at Daria's apartment, who threatened my brother—" she swatted her hand in the air; "but fuck that, let's throw him off the roof."

"We know who's behind it," he countered. She could tell she was pushing all the wrong buttons on this ticking time bomb. But she couldn't give a damn.

"Sweeney," she crossed her arms in an irritated huff. "You think Roscoe Sweeney is behind _all_ of what's happened. Impossible." Riley frowned at him; "You know what I want to know?"

"What?" The muscles in his shoulders tensed like a snake as he controlled his own anger.

"What's your deal with Sweeney? You completely blocked me out then, I didn't even need to read what little of your face I could see to know you have a problem with him."

"I don't," he replied with icy blankness, a shocking contrast from his demeanour a second ago.

"What's your problem with Sweeney?" She repeated, slower. Each word only fed Daredevil's rage, until a growl ripped out of him, " _nothing."_ His fists were clenched to his side. It was a warning, not to push it further. Riley bent her head a bit ready to block him if he attacked her and retreated a step too.

"So instead you decide to ignore my crucial instructions and put a valuable witness into a coma."

"He couldn't have told us anything else. Besides, it's not like he didn't deserve it."

A man like Gardner probably did, but that didn't justify it. Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. "You went too far!"

"Cops like you don't go far enough!" He snapped taking a big step to her where she nearly flinched. "At least I get the man out of the way for a good while. You throw them into a cell and release them the next day on bail, like nothing ever happened."

She stood her ground; "No. We keep them conscious enough to draw more information out of them." She heard the sirens and swung her bag over her shoulder. Riley hesitated before reaching out and yanking the mic off his suit. It was more important that they leave the place rather than stay, arguing in circles, she was sick of shouting at this moron. "We're not reckless; we have a method in order to make progress in our investigation. Calculated moves are what puts us a step ahead of the bad guys. Not this," she pointed her thumb behind her.

The red and blue lights of the ambulance and police cars were thrown against the façade beneath them. He was calming down as they readied to leave in different directions. She shouldered past Daredevil as he asked, coldly; "you still think this is a good idea detective? All of this?"

She looked back at him; "I never said it was." None of this was ever supposed to be easy, she always knew that, but Riley was not going to quit now. "But it doesn't end here."

* * *

On days where he needed to escape his own thoughts, he let his senses wander like a curious child to whatever compartmentalized moment he chose. He eavesdropped on the employee hinting at a raise to her boss in the travel agency across the hall from them. Next he roamed to the pavement outside, to a passerby having a conversation with their boyfriend about some texts she read off his cell phone.

"…get it signed? Matt?"

Karen tapped the desk to get his attention. "Yeah?" He replied plainly having drifted off from their conversation.

"Did you sign the paper I left on your desk this morning?"

He sat straighter, his hands scanning the desk to recall the exact point where he last left it. "Yeah, yeah it's…it's somewhere."

"I see it." She collected it into her lap, and then looked at him from below her lashes, "you've been zoning out all day."

He half-signed half-yawned, to be frank, all he wanted was 72 hours of sleep. Something he wasn't going to allow himself to have; "you noticed."

"Normally I would assume it was because you were tired, but you can usually make it to an 9am court hearing with 40 minutes of sleep and two shots of espresso in your coffee. No, this is a different kind of inattention and exhaustion."

"I'm sorry, I swear this stuff is important, I know that."

The name whispered to him again, _Sweeney. Sweeney..._ He had to actively push the events of last night out, they were almost surreal to him sometimes. He focused on Karen's steady breathing and that worked better for him.

She shrugged, "It's okay. It wasn't a normal week for us. Have you spoken to that detective since she confronted you?"

"No." He'd told her about what happened, she may not know his secret but he and Foggy agreed this was something they could safely tell her. "Do you think I made a bad call by arranging that meeting for her?"

But he if hadn't made the call he wouldn't know what he was up against. _This is my father's murderer._ As much as he wanted to sentence Sweeney to the cell he deserved to rot in, he also wanted believe that what Gardner had said was a lie. Even though deep in his gut, he knew it wasn't. He was still in the midst of processing exactly what he had learned, how far he was willing to keep going with the Detective, what he was prepared and not prepared to do.

Part of him was angry and vengeful. That dangerous side of him could turn reckless, become the monster everyone in that precinct thought he was. The other half was afraid. Afraid of how far he could let himself go, if put in a room with Sweeney.

" _You need restraint,"_ Knight had repeated tiresomely to him yesterday. But Matt had spent 18 years trying to move on from his past, to accept that he could not change what happened to his father, to cherish what memories of him he did have. Yet the past was catching up with him, and no matter how often he went church, he just didn't know if he could be as forgiving as God was.

"No, in fact, I understand why she would resort to seeking a vigilante's help. If he hadn't been there, I would be dead." She smiled to herself softly, as her hands kept busy with arranging the paperwork in her lap. "Everyday, I wish I could thank him for saving my life."

Matt smiled for the first time that week, "yeah, I bet he doesn't get the chance to hear that enough from the people he saves."

"What do you think Knight wanted to talk to him about? What does she have in mind?"

"Beats me."

"She surprised me."

"Me too."

He wasn't sure whether their combined efforts were enough to save Thomas Knight, but he liked to think they were on the right track. And if they could put Sweeney behind bars for good in the process, he may need this partnership more than ever.

* * *

Karen left to get lunch so Matt went into Foggy's office. Wordlessly, he opened the door and plopped into a chair.

"I fucked up. Big time."

Foggy sighed like a tired father, placing his pen down flat, "dramatic entrances aren't really your thing Matty."

"She's going to find out."

"Since you're clearly trying to exacerbate my headache, just how is she going to find out?"

"Sweeney."

"Sweeney," repeated his best friend rolling the name over his tongue. "Why is that name so familiar?"

"He's the man… he ordered the hit on my father."

Matt told him everything from start to finish, retelling bits that Foggy already knew so Matt could let it all out and process it rather than hold back like he usually would. He was standing and pacing by the time he was done explaining.

"And she'll know it's me," he spun back to Foggy who was following him with his eyes. "She'll look up Sweeney and make the connection between Matt Murdock and Daredevil."

"Matt Murdock is still blind. I wouldn't worry about it." Matt did exactly that, he scrunched his hair up with both hands, Foggy cringed; "But me telling you not to worry about it is still making you worry about it."

He grunted in response at how demotivating his best friend's pep talk was. "How about this?" Continued Fog, "next time you guys meet, make it painfully obvious how blind you are, stub your toe on the chair, whack her shins with your cane. Just be bad at being blind."

While he was worrying about how to handle Sweeney, it only hit him much later that Knight might be on to him. Out of options, he turned to his friend, "I guess I can try that."

* * *

She stared at Alfonso's contact on her phone screen, thinking about calling him. It took all of ten seconds and an awkward goodbye over the phone for her to realize that she couldn't rely on him anymore. Not with the unconventional and very illegal way she was trying to free her brother.

She rested her laptop on the dining table, cracking her knuckles as she glanced sidelong at the wine cabinet. It was empty, she'd emptied all her alcohol down the drain years ago. Some days it was hard to be sober, but it had been a long journey that she could look back on and be proud of. She was both humbled and weakened by the idea that one sip would be all it took to unwind countless hours of AA meetings.

She turned on her computer, and spread out her research, typing 'Sweeney' into the search engine. The name was common for the Irish neighborhood, but she could not forget the vigilante's reaction to it. How it looked like the muscles in his shoulders would rip through the seams of his costume.

Riley had experience that kind of intense rage before, felt it course through her veins and boil her blood. That kind of anger only came from the heart.

...

Later in the afternoon she was on her way to Nelson & Murdock's firm when she got a call from her brother. She didn't even get a 'hello' in when he ranted to her saying that their mother was on their way to the meeting too. A surprise and completely uncalled for visit. "Ugh, she's probably losing her shit, and she's going to blame it all on me."

" _Riles, consider me out, you know what to do; this is your area of expertise."_

Their mother was going through a redemption phase that neither of them could stomach, it was an alien side of her they weren't used too. She knew what their mum would say to her the moment they met again; _you don't know how to look after yourselves or each other._ It was a total bullshit act, considering she couldn't keep them safe from her endless string of asshole boyfriends when they were kids.

Nevertheless, Riley had to be the rational adult here. "Tommy we can't miss this meeting, c'mon, this is your freedom we're talking about. I don't want to see her either but we can't physically stop her from attending, and you need to be there."

" _No, not if she's going to be there. Normally I'd tolerate her, but this is…different from the other times."_ Other than getting back on his own two feet and owning up to his mistakes, her little brother was doing this to win back the trust of a girl who clearly did not want to have anything to do with him. Her heart melted a little, she couldn't even remember the last romantic gesture she'd received, if ever.

"Okay, okay. I will handle mum, yeah? You let the lawyers talk you through it; Murdock knows what's up. I trust him."

He laughed, _"jesus, three words I never thought I'd hear you say about those 'demon spawn'."_ She flushed, embarrassed to admit to herself that less than a month ago she wouldn't have trusted him with her favourite mug. _"Are you sure you can handle mum?"_

"Yes I can," but she didn't really believe herself either. "Don't you dare skip out, Tommy, or you're going to get a roasting from me too, understand? I'll be there in 10."

...

At the entrance to the attorney's office her mother had also just arrived. The older woman was well put together in sensible shoes, slacks and a salmon pink cardigan. Like a chameleon she could transform when it was required of her. Social services believed the performance for years, when neither Riley nor her brother bought a lick of it.

When Riley had first started at the police academy was around the same time the third rehab clinic had finally gotten through to their mother. 'Cured her' as former Mrs. Knight, liked to humbly brag. The number of recovery stories she had heard over the years were immeasurable, told from the view points of criminals to colleagues to complete strangers. She was a recovery story herself, but the bitter memories of her childhood poisoned any hope of forgiveness she had for her mother.

"Mum—"

"Jesus Christ, Riley Louise Knight, you better have a good fucking explanation for this."

"Mum, please—"

Her mother held her index finger up, shutting her up. Riley sighed through her teeth, _here it comes._

"Jail? J-A-I-L?!" Her mother said as if she was enunciating the word to a 5 year old, the pitch of her voice going up an octave.

"Clearly, he's not in jail," Riley reminded her stonily.

"The nurses said he turned himself in for a girl. A _girl?_ This is the fourth time he's gotten in trouble with the cops. So where the hell are you? Mmhm? Where in God's name are you, 'Detective Knight'?" She mocked, stabbing a finger at the door to Nelson  & Murdock, "just look where we're standing—"

She rolled her eyes, like she didn't already know how messed up this whole situation was. "Mum, be quiet, we are not doing this now—"

"I can't think of a better time and place to finally have this conversation! You are irresponsible, and you do not know how to look after yourself or your brother!"

Fuming she said, "oh _please_ , this is all your goddam fault to begin with!"

As her mother opened her mouth the throw an insult back, the door flew open. There stood Karen Page, the look on her countenance suggesting that she too had lost patience waiting for their argument to simmer down.

"Mrs. Knight! Detective!"

Riley and her mother exchanged a sheepish look before she replied; "Ms. Page."

"The most important thing for both of you to do in this second is stop arguing and come inside, _right now_. We're waiting."

Her mother fixed on a prim and proper smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "I am so sorry Ms. Page, I haven't seen my children in a while. I definitely did not plan on reuniting with them under such dire circumstances. A mother has the right to worry."

She wanted to vomit in her own mouth. Riley could not stand outside a second longer and stepped inside the firm, wishing this nightmare would end soon.

* * *

In the evening, as he left work, Matt's head was preoccupied with the day's meetings. Thus he did not preemptively hear who turned the corner to catch up with him as he landed on the front stoop. Matt pretended to adjust his bag on his shoulder and took the step onto the pavement. The detective was approaching slowly, her fingers playing with the keys in her pocket, one of her intricacies when her mind was restless. She was watching him in the way that many non-blind people watched Matt, hyper-aware that he was different with his cane and glasses; curious as to how he navigated the world. It was human nature to observe people in a state of their most natural; being unobserved, and Matt, being blind wasn't supposed to know that he was being studied.

She swallowed whatever uneasiness she felt and increased her pace, "Murdock."

"Knight," she held his arm, he pretended that it took him off guard, "you startled me."

"I'm sorry," she put her hand back in her pocket.

"Was there something else you wanted to discuss?"

She opened and closed her mouth; "can I walk with you?"

He nodded and pointed with his cane the direction he was headed, she offered to guide him again. "I wanted to apologize about earlier today. It was unprofessional and made the meeting awkward for everyone else."

The Knight's had plenty of skeletons in the closet. But he understood them; having grown up in an orphanage he'd been surrounded by bitter, sad children everyday, separating themselves from their past could be nearly impossible. "Believe it or not, you're not the worst family quarrel we've seen."

"There were more embarrassing ones?" She wanted to know, teasing the story out of him.

"Hot coffee spilled over Foggy and I, when this one couple were arguing over custody of a French bull dog. It went rampant around the office. The entire place went nuts." She laughed with him as he told her the anecdote. Knight was more comfortable around him nowadays. She made the effort to respect his firm, and she and Foggy were cordial with one another. Since Thomas walked into their office, the boundaries of their professions were still very clear but less of a wall and more like a hurdle that was low enough to step over.

"Is your arm, alright?"

The stitches were in place neatly, blood coagulated, "yup, thank you for stitching me up. I trust you've had your meeting with our mutual friend already?" He asked, wanting to jump to the point.

"Yes I have, it did not end the way I would have wanted it too. Then again, I'm not too shocked."

"And you're still getting help from him?"

"I intend too." They walked in silence for a bit after that, her teeth grinding as she tried to form her next words. "I want to attend Tommy's hearing, but another part of me doesn't want too."

"Why is that?" Her brother almost always depended on her counsel, his shoulders relaxed by ten-fold whenever his sister walked into the conference room. He wished Thomas would only vocalize how much his sister meant to him, rather than the usual sarcasm and hot-headiness he decided to upend on her.

"To be fair, I don't really want to listen to old wounds being opened. But I know I have to be there. Mum will attend and Tommy will need me no matter what. He's more patient than I am when it comes to her, believe or not, but he needs my support. You've read his file, you know about our past."

"I do." Jumping from foster home to foster home, juvie records for both of the siblings, and another tidbit about Riley that had been too classified for Karen to uncover.

"Murdock," she spoke in that tone she used when she had to bring up something she knew he would not enjoy hearing.

"What?" His heart was beating like a jack-hammer. _She knows, she knows, she knows…_

"There's something else."

Matt played along as the oblivious lawyer, "regarding your brother's case or—?"

"I'm not sure. I can't disclose much with you, but um—last night Daredevil and I uncovered something. I looked into it."

"And?" They stopped in the street; it was just past sundown, there were too many onlookers in case he needed to escape. He would have to get out of this one by playing dumb if she suspected anything.

"You're an orphan, you were raised in St. Augustines. I read about your father too. He was killed."

The pain of the loss of his father still felt as though he was being stabbed in the gut, his knuckles wrapped around his cane, white as the bone beneath the skin. "What does that have to do with this?"

"You found him." Matt stiffened. "Do you know who killed him?"

"He was mugged." It was a lie he told everyone, and he certainly did not want to get into the personal details of his life with her. But that might already to be too late.

"He wasn't, it was mob hit, and you know that."

"Look it doesn't matter how he was killed, it doesn't change the fact that he's dead. I can't do anything about it." Matt Murdock certainly could not, but Daredevil could.

"Right." She gave him a hard look, "but the man who ordered it, is still alive and doing damage to our home, Roscoe Sweeney."

Matt licked his lips, swayed backwards a bit, holding his hands up defensively; "I don't want trouble, Knight. What business you have with Daredevil keep it away from my friends and I. You made a dangerous decision and I don't want to be roped into your professional suicide any further." He could not have worded that any better, it did the trick to make her doubt herself.

Her face heated up, her tongue twisting; "of course, I'm sorry," she shook her head, "I thought you should know, I wouldn't put you in danger. I just—I'm sorry."

He stood strong, nodded once, relieved that he had warded off any suspicion on himself; "don't worry about it. Like I said, keep me out of it."

She left him there. It only hit him when she was out of his range that she had been trying to protect him, to find common ground. She thought he deserved to know, and chose not to keep it from him, he did not acknowledge her loyalty even when he deserved none of it. The lives of their families were now connected by the same monster that killed his father and was now threatening her brother. Matt had not realized it, being so concerned about her connecting him to Daredevil.

But now they had a name, a common enemy.

And not only did she want to protect her brother but she wanted justice for his father too, even if that meant she had to continuously work with Daredevil, risking her entire career. Simply put, Matt had no idea how to feel about that, except awful for putting her down. Everything became so much more personal.

* * *

"How's the task force going?" She asked Alfie across from her as they sat in their favourite diner eating dinner.

He snorted in disdain; "Like a bad date you don't know how to get out of."

"What have you found?"

"We're in the midst of contacting people that have had encounters with the vigilante, develop an idea of the area he works in." He spooned tomato soup into his mouth. "He clearly doesn't get around by car, or else we'd be hearing about him doing his thing in other parts of New York."

 _It took him this long to figure out that the people Daredevil saved were the key to figuring out exactly where he was based._ She sipped her coffee contemplatively _._ Friendly competition was a tradition from police academy days that resurfaced here and there. She was pleased to be a few steps ahead of him even if he didn't realize it.

He put his spoon down; "Okay wild suggestion here; but do you reckon he's working with someone on the force?"

She choked on her coffee; "I doubt it. Everyone hates him." Alfie barely paid any attention to her as he stared off in the distance, deep in thought.

"Haven't heard much from Maggi. You're not keeping her up too late waiting for you to come home are you?"

He gave her a guilty look. "Alfie," she disparaged.

"Daredevil only works at night."

"The last time you were on a task force, you slept on the couch more than you shared a bed with her." The initial drive to get a criminal was a great adrenaline rush, but it teeters out and morphs into an obsession until the case haunts your dreams. God knows the lengths of time that Riley had spent losing sleep and functioning as a normal human being because she was giving 110% to her job. Someone like Alfie, with a family, couldn't afford that kind of imbalance.

"You can't let that happen again, especially for Alyssa's sake."

"I know, Riles."

"Do you?"

"You don't have people you need to take care of, you don't get it."

She stared at him, incredulous; "Have you not been listening to a single thing I've said this past half hour?" _God, he can be an idiot sometimes._

He regretted what he said; "I'm sorry, I didn't—" Valentine's phone rang; "I got to take this."

The call barely lasted ten seconds. "Grocery store heist, ten blocks from here." Alfie stood, leaving a few bills on the table; paying for her meal too. "A squad is on their way." Out of force of habit, she got out of her seat too, and then the reality slapped her in the face that she was suspended, it wasn't her responsibility.

"No, come along, it'll be like old times."

That was the structure of Alfie's apologies: bare minimum number of words said, dinner paid for and an invitation to live in a few hours of nostalgia, even if the captain would admonish him for asking her to tag along.

Not that she was complaining. Actions always spoke louder than words in her book.

...

Cop cars were jam packed into a tiny street. Three assailants were holding up the mini market when they arrived. They had taken two customers hostage and were surprised when the cashier had a gun. Shots had been fired but there were no reports of injuries or death. A customer was on the phone with the first officer who called in the heist.

"I know this store," said Riley, it was next to a popular corner to sell weed. "There's a service entrance at the back, we can get in from there."

"We'll be putting the hostages in harms way."

The assailants had no terms of negotiation and they were only making things worst for themselves, neither was the first officer making progress over the phone to the thief.

"They weren't prepared for the cashier to have a gun, they have no demands besides their freedom. We need to end this before it escalates further."

"Which is not an option," said Alfie.

"There'll be enough space for us at the back, we won't be seen."

"Okay."

They dipped away and ran in through around the back to the service entrance. It was unlocked, the storage room was long and narrow. She squeezed between boxes of produce towards the white light from the store inside. She crouched down behind a counter in front of the open doorway and peeked. The cashier had a gun pointed at one assailant while he had it pointed at him; another thief was holding a hostage at gunpoint, while the third was talking to the officer outside on the phone snatched from the other hostage, knelt on the ground. Each pair of eyes above the black half mask flew around like scared animals at the sound of sirens and blue and red lights.

She signalled Alfie to go around the back of the thief holding onto the hostage. She went for the one facing off with the cashier. "Drop your weapons!" She shouted, springing from her hiding spot.

The one at the front entrance leaped up in their spot, and the one holding onto the hostage flailed, the crying woman he had in a headlock falling to her knees as he nearly lost hold of her. "You fucking step any closer and I shot her in the fucking head!" He bellowed.

"There is no way out of this! There is no need for anyone to get hurt!" Alfie was behind him now cornering him. The other thief with the gun was glancing back frantically at his comrade at a loss of what to do.

"I swear to God, you come any nearer—"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw two objects flying, one smacked the thief facing off with the cashier in the head, the other at the one with the hostage. Seconds slowed down, the gun pointed at the hostage's head was going to go off. Riley jumped forward and pushed his elbow upwards as the gun fired into the ceiling. The hostage was freed and Riley swept his legs from under him.

Her heart skipped when she saw Daredevil tackle and punch the third thief, knocking him out. He came in like a ghost and then ran to the direction of the service entrance. His presence totally threw her off.

She exchanged a look with Alfie, as her friend saw his golden opportunity literally escape from him. She was holding down the one she had tackled, as Daredevil ran out behind her.

"Get him!" Valentine yelled infuriated, torn between staying there to ensure the hostages were safe and going after Daredevil.

The one below her shifted, "Stay down!" She growled pressing her knee into the middle of his back.

"He's not getting away!" Shouted Alfie as he took off after Daredevil. _No_ _, no, no._

Her hands flew faster than the wind to cuff the thief she had pinned. "It's clear, two guns down, another unconscious," she reported into the police radio. Daredevil had been betting on their need to follow protocol, cuff every thief and be present for the aftermath of questioning and paperwork. But he had never met a determined son-of-bitch like Alfonso Valentine.

 _No, this is not the end. This is not the end,_ played over and over again in her mind she as she burst through the service entrance. She sprinted after Alfie who was hot on Daredevil's heels.

Alfie was at a dead end, unable to climb like Daredevil could, but he had his gun. If Riley was the best shot in the force, Alfie was a close second, and sometimes he was better than her. If the vigilante was caught than she may never be able to save her brother, he would blab about her too, and her life would be over. But beyond her personal struggles with him, for some illogical reason-since she'd probably already lost her sanity a few months ago, she just didn't want to see an innocent-albeit impossible- man die. Not when he was only trying to save the rest of them.

Valentine aimed, in that spilt second she decided to save the vigilante. Daredevil was scaling the dark fire escape like a spider, hopping and leaping. As she caught up to Alfie, her momentum forced her to crash into him.

"Stop!"

The gun went off. Her eyes flew upwards as Daredevil crashed in through a window into a flat. Alfie shoved her, red and livid; "Out of my way, Knight!"

"This is a civilian household!" Was the pathetic excuse she managed through panting to catch her breathe.

"I had him!" His eyes were wide and white, absolutely prepared to throttle her for making him miss his shot. Whatever frantic apology she was dribbling out, he ignored as he dashed off to find the front of the block of flats. She went after him, with one final glance at the broken window where Daredevil had dived through, undecided as to whether it was better for him to be alive or dead on the other side of it.

..

She was faster than Alfie and caught up with him in the nick of time. On the third floor, the couple who owned the flat was in a frenzy; their window smashed and front door in splinters. It was too late to give chase to Daredevil by then. The couple were in their Pj's huddled in each other's arms, shaking in their boots at what fresh hell they were witnessing, on what was supposed to be a typical, boring Wednesday night.

The wife took one look at Riley, a fellow woman, and reached for her, thanking God that the police were here. "It's alright m'am, we'll handle it from here," she reassured soothingly as Alfie spoke to the husband. "We're so sorry we disturbed your evening."

Alfie made his anger known to her after she calmed down the civilians. He pulled her aside by the arm; " _Why_ did you push me?"

He still hadn't released her so she chopped at his wrist and he finally did. "It was an accident and you were shooting right into people's homes!" She said in a shouted whisper.

"He was right there, within my range, we could've—argh!" His hands clamped onto his head in frustration. "What was that shit show? You weren't on your A-game, tripping over like a 3 year old who can't walk. That's nothing like you. You shouldn't have come back this soon, with Tommy—"

"Do not bring up my brother," she cautioned.

A small timid cough emanated beside them. The husband gingerly held up a finger to get their attention; "Excuse me? Officers? I have to show you something." They followed him back inside to shattered window; "There's a little blood on the glass here."

Her friend bent down for a closer inspection; "Oh my god. Holy shit!" Alfie covered his mouth, "sorry for the language." He looked up at her, "Knight, this is it, the bastards enough of a moron to not wear bulletproof outfits."

She was screaming internally, but on the surface even she had to agree he was dumb to think he was invincible; "Oh yeah, he's full of shit."

"You usually carry swabs right?"

She blanked for a second. "Uh yeah. Here you go." She should not have given them to him, but calling a CI would put the fate of the DNA sample in a stranger's hand. Not somewhere Riley could manipulate.

"Perfect."

"Hold on, collecting blood, this is one of 'em DNA samples, isn't it? Oh how exciting! We're helping the police find Daredevil," cooed the wife, clapping her hands, thrilled. "Wait till I tell Vera, she's going to be devastated! She has the biggest crush on the masked man, always thought he was so mysterious and sexy. And now he might even be un-masked!"

"Uh, Mrs. Carlisle, it would be best if we kept this investigation under wraps, we don't want any press to swarm towards this. This sample may not even be enough to form any kind of significant DNA sequencing, and then there's cross-matching it with our records, it may be totally inconclusive," Riley said to her.

"Don't mind my partner Mrs. Carlisle, she's always seen the glass as half-empty," joked Valentine. "Although, regarding the press, she is right."

"I usually am, like 95% of the time."

...

They got official statements from the couple and left them to their evening. There was more work to be done the rest of the night that Alfie had to return too. They walked together towards the car, "I'm sorry you didn't get him."

"I'm over it, this is the next best thing. DNA evidence, this has never happened before." He held up the test tube like a prize; "This is my ticket out of this task force. You know Maggie been giving out to me about the late nights, says I don't spend enough time with her or Alyssa—"

"Okay, but—"

He was so overjoyed he wasn't listening anymore; "We have him, we finally, finally have him."

She held his shoulder; "You're busy, I'll take the sample to the lab."

He frowned at her; "What? You hate being a runner, I'll tell a rookie to do it."

"I still feel bad for what happened. And you know I know how to expedite the process, any rookie would just stutter and let the entire CI department snicker in their faces. I'll make sure it gets there safely and is first in line to be analyzed."

Unfailingly, he trusted her; _you shouldn't Alf, you really shouldn't._ "Okay, it's yours," he placed it into her outstretched palm without a second thought.

"You go home to your family, Alfie, it's been a long night." He gave a tired but thankful smile at that, the guilt chewing at her insides.

* * *

It was an endless repeat of one foot forward and then white hot pain biting a chunk of out his leg. His skull was like a pressurized container moments from exploding after he'd landed face first into that flat. His senses were going into overdrive, the world pressing on him from all sides as he tried to focus on the pinprick in the canvas of his mind, a pitiful beacon that assured him he was going in the right direction. He shuffled the dead weight of his injured leg after the other, on his way to the detective's home.

The bullet had an exit wound and he wasn't losing blood rapidly but if he didn't get help within the next hour, or at least bandage it, then he was a dead man. But there was unfinished business. He stuck around as long as he could to overhear Knight and Valentine collecting a sample of his blood off the floor. He was going to get shit for his costumes from Foggy tomorrow, _it's_ _knife proof but it ain't bullet proof Matty._

If he made it to tomorrow.

He reached the staircase of the fire escape. He hooked his good leg over the railing, and swung the other over, a rod of agony shot through him, he bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood. The world on fire was ablaze with no hope of dampening down. He trudged down the steps, his footwork was messy though...

 _I can't lose consciousness now, I have to reach her, I have to…_

When he forced his eyes open he realized that he had fallen down the last flight of stairs to her apartment. His entire good side felt like it was broken and inflamed. _I'll be getting a dozens bruised for that._ He hoisted himself to standing and pushed the window open, she was almost home coming up the stairs and muttering to herself.

He fell into her apartment, blood oozing out of the wound, the darkness was calling for him once more as he felt faint. The keys were inserted into the lock, two clicks felt like a decade.

"Detective," he grunted weakly, failing to sound menacing.

"Fuck!" She cursed, clutching her chest, startled.

"You…destroy that sample…"

She leaned backwards and shut the door; "Calm. Down."

He gasped, trying with all his might to stay awake, "I won't…until I watch you burn that evidence..."

"I can't do that."

Fear shot through his heart like another bullet, "We had an agreement!" The sudden outburst, was like another blow to the head. It caused him to sway backwards, he gripped onto the windowpane.

"Listen to me first! Valentine will constantly check on this until the results are released," Knight got the sample out of her backpack. Matt knew Valentine would treat it like his baby; it was his saving grace in the investigation at the moment.

"I can't just get rid of it."

"And the alternative? You get what you want…you find out who I am."

"That wasn't part of the deal, either." She touched her chest, "I intend to uphold my word."

He hung his head low, a deranged chuckle escaped his mouth; "Then what's your plan, detective?"

"I will give the lab a sample, but it won't be your blood, it'll be mine." She walked over to the sink and tossed it into the garbage disposal. "Trust me now?"

"No, but I'll take that." Matt took a deep breath; he could keep it together for just a few more minutes, then he definitely had to leave; "Although, if at any point…you decide to change your mind—"

"You know where I live, got it." She touched her right hand to her heart; "No threats from my end, I will protect you, as promised, D."

"You...you do what you have too."

She started towards him, Matt leaned back, the windowpane felt like the only stable surface in the entire living room where the floor had become water. "He got you," she observed, an unexpected concern filling her voice, "you're paler, and you're not standing right."

"I'm fine," he lied, quite poorly.

She squinted at his leg, his blood dripping on her floor; "You need a doctor… or I can help; I've removed bullets before. But I assume the costume is kind of a like a jumpsuit, all off or all on kind of situation, it's up to you." He shook his head slowly, he would not take that risk; he'd rather die. "Alright sure, put on a brave face, why don't you? Do you have someone you can go too?"

"Sort of." He replied, in that exact moment completely doubting whether even Claire was willing to help him now. And if there wasn't Claire to give him aid, then he had no one. He was only a handful of blinks from passing out, and the last place he wanted to lose consciousness was in a cop's apartment.

The pain was mind numbing then, his sole focus was on finding refuge elsewhere; he angled his body out the window; "I need to go."

He was going to make it to the morning. He had too.

* * *

Apologies for any grammatical errors and the length! I wanted to get this out ASAP, and will be editing it further.


	11. Chapter 11

**Posting two chapters today! This one (Chapter 11) and Chapter 12!**

* * *

 _Foggy_

His eyes flew desperately from the wound in Matt's leg to his phone screen. Trying to keep his sanity together.

"Fog you need to press harder," Matt gasped, leaning his head back on the floor, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain.

He winced "uh okay," and pressed on the towel he held against the bullet hole, feeling the wet squelch of blood in the fabric. _Best friend, injured and bleeding out on the floor,_ _perfect way to spend a Thursday night in._ It was deja vu, emotions were battling inside of him, part of him wanted to cry out in hopelessness, part of him wanted to lash out at Matt for no good reason. When it was Nobu who had almost killed Matt, and not a bullet from a cop's gun, none of the lies had mattered in the very thick of the moment, only saving his best friend's life.

He was sweating buckets, at a loss of what to do, _maybe I should've gone to med school, maybe I should've been a doctor, maybe then I could actually be a useful in this situation._ Frantic knocking on the door caused him to jolt up. He folded Matt's hand over the wound, and stole a fleeting glance at him as he stood, he gulped, _please don't die while I answer the door._

Someone upstairs had answered his prayers. Claire Temple stood in the hallway, medical bag in hand, forehead creased with concern, panting as if she'd run here. "Thank God!" Foggy near threw his arms around the nurse in relief, instead he stepped aside to let her in.

"How bad is it?" She shouted back at him just as her gaze fell on his best friend in the middle of the living room. "Holy shit."

 _That is a gross understatement._ "Help me get him out of his suit," Claire ordered.

Foggy landed on his knees next to her, gladly prepared to take orders and pass Matt's life into more capable hands. They quickly and delicately got the Daredevil suit off; rivulets of blood ran down his leg, more shockingly red than ever.

"Okay Matt, I need you to focus on the wound," she instructed him, firm, but gently. She scanned him head to toe taking in what clinical findings she could find with her eyes, checking his vitals. Claire tossed Foggy a pair of gloves as she put on a pair herself.

"It's the only thing I can sense right now," Matt exhaled roughly, he groaned and turned his head to the side. She lifted the towel and begin to palpate around the wound; "do you feel my hand?" Having forgotten what it looked like for the past fifteen minutes, Foggy's stomach turned over on itself to see it again.

Matt made a sickening guttural noise; "Ah!"

"Sorry," said the nurse but her face didn't show it, she had on a face of steely focus. "Tell me does the wound go anywhere near where my fingers are tracing?"

Matt inhaled deeply, concentrating, "no."

"That's good; it means the bullet didn't hit any deep veins. We need to slow the bleeding, before he goes into shock." She grabbed a pillow from the couch, "I'm going to elevate your leg," she told him as a warning. As she did it Matt let out the loudest groan he's made in that half hour, pain rippled across his entire body, and Foggy winced seeing it.

"You," she looked at Foggy, "I need some better lighting in this place, clean towels, hot water, and first aid kit should be on the shelf over there."

They spent the next hour stitching him up and getting him stable with fluids. It was a flurry of quick movements, stern orders, red towels, and Matt on the verge of passing out after every low moan.

Finally they had him on the couch, wrapped in blankets. Matt was fast asleep, _but not dead,_ he was relieved. When the situation seemed to calm down, Foggy was at the kitchen, wiping sweat from his forehead and getting himself a glass of water. Claire joined him at the sink, he poured a glass of water for her too and set it on the counter;

"Thanks." She took off the gloves and tossed them in the trash. "I never wanted to do this again."

He heaved a rueful sigh; _you and I both._ "I should be the one thanking you, for coming here on such extremely short notice."

"After that fight with that ninja, I never wanted to do this again. But somehow I ran into more and more of his type," she lifted her chin in Matt's general direction.

"Somehow he still hasn't gotten himself killed," said Foggy morbidly, taking a sip of water and then downing the entire glass. Suddenly all the adrenaline was drained from him, he was exhausted, and the tiredness gave him a pounding headache behind his eyes. How did Claire manage to do this kind of thing for a living?

She shrugged, "he's good at fighting, I've seen him. It's not all just luck. But he can't go back out like this, or too soon," she washed her hands, doing the five step procedure as if she was in the hospital. "We need to make sure he knows that."

After their brief conversation, Foggy tried to make himself something to eat in the kitchen. Matt's fridge was scant of anything appetising but he could make do, Claire declined his offer for a sandwich. She was sitting on the edge of the couch, besides Matt's legs staring at him sleeping. The way she looked at him, and softly pushed aside the matted hair on his forehead, really tugged at a heart string for Foggy. He believed in keeping one's head in the present, but what about happiness? Could his best friend ever have any of that if he always pushed it away?

Matt never told him what happened-or didn't happen-between him and the nurse. It appeared like a lot of things had been left unsaid and hearts broken, on both sides. _Given the number of times she's saved his life,_ _I think it's Matt's loss._

He walked over to pick up the Daredevil suit off the floor. He looked at his friend asleep, and had half a mind to toss it into the garbage for all the good it's done for Matt, who almost died again tonight. But then Matt would probably wake up and knock him out, then he'd be the one passed out instead.

* * *

 _Matt_

It was the quiet that woke him. The stillness of the world around him. For someone who could monitor the shift in air currents, hear the rhythm of someone's pulse; a sense of unfeeling was alien to Matt. He knew he was home and that at some point Foggy had answered his garbled, wretched call in the middle of the night. The rest of it was a blur. He wanted to continue resting, to sink back into the comfort of sleep, but he couldn't shake this _unfeeling_ , it wasn't his norm, and it was scaring him, he had to address it.

His eyes opened slowly as if they were weighed down by cinderblocks. The canvas in his head was fuzzy; he wasn't catching outlines and temperature imbalances as fluidly as he normally would, there was a delay in how they patched together, like a puzzle with missing pieces. His head felt heavy, the weight of it didn't sit comfortably on his shoulders. He could sense someone on the couch with him. He reached out, ironically, like a blindman. Luckily, the touch of familiar fingertips told him who was sitting beside him.

"Claire?" He said her name like a prayer.

"Forget my name already?" Her speech was slow, or was he just not catching up with her in time? Then it occurred to him that the heaviness in his joints, head and the hindered senses was because of the numbing power of painkillers. "How're you feeling?"

"Exhausted, ah," he'd tried to sit up, but failed when a dull wave of pain throbbed upwards from his thigh. _Oh, I remember now._

"Don't move, we don't want to rip those stitches. The wound was clean, and your vitals are stable."

"My...head," he mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment.

"You know, there I was, updating some charts in the wards, I thought to myself, huh I do miss Matt, I haven't heard from him in a while," mused Claire, resting a hand on his leg to steady him. "And then I got the call, and I realized I definitely don't miss any of this."

He lied down, the drugs almost lulling him back to his dreamless sleep again. He cracked a cheeky smile, "not even me?"

She smiled back, "nope."

"Ouch, took that hit... right here," he said pointing to his heart. She shook her head at the gall he had to flirt in a state like this. She adjusted the blanket on him, tucking it under his arms. _God, do I miss being taken care of by her._

"Thank you for being here... I don't know anyone else." He couldn't thank her enough for all the times she'd been there when she didn't have to be; she was probably tired of hearing his excuses and apologies.

"Where's Foggy?" Asked Matt. He caught the scent of his best friend in the kitchen.

Foggy raised his arm into the air. "Over here. I'm not actually a ball of sunshine right now, thought waking up to a pretty nurse would be better than my grumpiness."

"I'm sorry," Matt told him when Foggy sat on the armchair across from them. Fog sighed tiredly, he was running on limited hours of sleep.

"I know it must have been…hard, on your own."

Foggy puffed out some air, as he tried to keep his temper in check; "as macabre as it sounds it's getting easier with practice. But I wish it wasn't. You're not _bulletproof_ Matty, I keep saying that."

 _Ah the 'I told you so' I was waiting for, haven't heard this in a while._ Now would be the perfect instance for the drugs to kick in at full force so he could return back to a peaceful slumber, and be voluntarily absent from the strained angst-filled conversations that were about to ensue.

"Before we get into that; _you_ need to get that leg checked," Claire interjected. "I can stitch a wound up no problem, but the only thing that's going to tell you the extent of the damage is an x-ray, and a physiotherapist to help rehabilitate you—"

"Physiotherapist?"

Claire frowned at him, "you'll need crutches Matt, for at least a month."

He made the mistake of trying to sit up again to strongly argue her point, "no, no that's too long—ah."

"You're not already thinking of going out there, are you?" Said Foggy, appalled. "Jesus Christ!"

As the pain gnawing on his leg gradually subsided he said; "the more time I spend sitting here, bed-ridden, the more time and opportunity our enemies have to take what they want."

"Our enemies?' What the heck have you gotten yourself into, now?" Claire raised her palm to stop him from explaining. "You know what, I don't even want to know. Could you for once stop talking like a vigilante? The city can wait a few weeks."

Matt kept stubbornly quiet.

"The number of gang violence related incidents coming into the ER has escalated by at least 20% I look at some punk in front of me and I wonder if you were one who put him on that stretcher. Or if it's someone else who's decided to start handing out justice the way you are. Cuz' morgue is overflowing as well."

"You know that would never be me," he said, vehemently. She was only handing him more reasons to get out of bed as soon as possible. He cursed Valentine, cursed Knight, cursed this whole damn city while he was at it. _I should consider myself lucky to be alive._ Still, he couldn't help but be salty about it his current debilitating state.

"There's a shithead in a coma too, he took quite a fall from four stories. Was that you?" She asked pointedly, arching a brow. "You've done it before." She referred to their first encounter on her rooftop when he dropped that dirty cop off the side into the dumpster.

He grounded his teeth. Foggy watching the exchange unfolded his arms, eyed widened; " _was_ that you, Matt?"

Grunting in pain, Matt wedged himself back into a comfortable supine position on the couch, ignoring everything they said; "give me whatever painkillers you have."

"You're asking me to start smuggling drugs for you, now?" Said Claire.

All the forced movement he was doing was making him slightly nauseous. "I know you've given me some already; otherwise I'd be worse." In the past, he'd specifically instructed her not to give him any because of how they interfered with his senses, but clearly no one cared for his opinion in these matters anymore.

"You can do whatever the hell you want, and I will get you the drugs you need- if you get that leg checked out, _please."_

"I can't go to the hospital," he said, trying to not to sound like a whiny kid.

"Say you were in an accident or mugged," she proposed, "nobody would think twice about something like that happening to an unsuspecting blind man."

"I can't go to the hospital, because she might be there."

"Who?"

"The detective."

"I see," she replied, knowingly.

"Foggy brought you up to speed?"

"You were out for a while."

"Daredevil and Detective Knight, it's adorable," quipped Foggy. "And also the second worst idea he's ever had, the first being to put on that suit."

Matt grimaced, he was really in the worse frame of mind to be having this conversation; "Foggy—I can't handle you arguing with me about this—"

"Oh I'm sorry," he interrupted, crossly, getting out of the armchair, looking as if he was prepared to shoot Matt in the other leg. "It must be real difficult for you to watch your best friend bleed out on their carpet, _twice._ Oh wait, that wasn't you, it was me!"

"Foggy-"

"How am I supposed to explain this to Karen? To our clients? To the Detective Knight?" He demanded.

"We've been in similar situations before."

"Karen's not stupid, she thinks something's seriously wrong with you already. What do I tell her now? A stray bullet hit you in the leg?" Foggy started to pace the room, clutching his head, "Oh my god, I am sick of _lying-"_

"You two, shut up!" Claire held up both hands at either of their directions to stop them, not like Matt was going anywhere, _or standing vertically any time soon_. "Arguing back and forth isn't going to make anything better or worse. Can we talk like reasonable adults here?"

They both kept their mouths shut and nodded. "Thank you."

She looked down at Matt, speaking to him with less aggravation; "I know Detective Knight. I know she's good at what she does. But you're her brother's lawyer; it ain't rocket science she's going to put two and two together."

"That's why I'll keep a low profile, especially in this condition, until I can figure something out."

She pursed her lips in that way she did when she didn't accept any of his thin solutions; "If you were really partners with Knight you would stop wearing that mask, it'd be simpler wouldn't it?"

It would be miles easier to just tell Knight the truth. No need to lead a double life, second-guessing what he said to her to ensure Matt Murdock and Daredevil had not said the same. No more juggling secrets and deceptions.

"I don't trust her," he concluded, "I doubt that will ever change."

Claire sighed dejectedly, he always managed to bring her to her wits end; "I tried stopping you once, and it didn't work. We've both tried, it seems," she glanced at Foggy. "So do me this one favour and go to the hospital as Matt Murdock and see a doctor. I'll make sure the detective isn't around while you get checked up."

"It was practically a flesh wound."

She gaped at him, incredulous; "A bullet still went through you! I can't—" she was pissed, but held herself, breathing out calmly. "—You know, I just had a 12 hour shift, my brain is melting in exhaustion and I don't have the energy to argue with you anymore, I just don't. You figure it out...but this _cannot_ happen again. I need you to be prepared in case Knight does find out the truth, because you need to take responsibility for what happens."

He let out a frustrated grunt; "You think I don't know that?"

Her eyes were drawn to slits at him, "Oh you clearly know everything don't you?"

He flushed, "I didn't mean—"

"Can't I be worried?" She asked him, wounded, and for once Matt had to shut his big mouth and simply listen. Guilt exacerbated the nausea he was already experiencing. He had put Foggy and Claire through another near death ordeal, and he couldn't even make the promise to stop putting himself in these dire situations. _I'm such an ungrateful son of a bitch. One day they'll just give up and not come to my rescue._

"You got shot at twice in less than two months, both bullets got you, you're not-" she peeked at her watch, "never mind, I got to go."

Foggy, who had been silent for a while, suddenly perked up and freaked; "Wait, are you sure?"

"I gave you instructions, you'll be fine," she assured him with smile, putting the last of her things into a medical bag.

Matt bit his bottom lip weighing the options, he tilted his head to face the ceiling, and sighed heavily, giving in; "I'll go to a hospital."

Her eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise, "thank you. Now was that so hard? Didn't have to be fighting me and trying to rip open your stitches."

"You never agree with me on anything," said Foggy, salty.

"Well I need to get better fast, and I need to know how long it's going to take."

"The human body doesn't always listen to what we want it to do," she said, matter-of-factly. "Just go as soon as possible, tonight at the latest," she commanded in her no-nonsense nurse tone. "Call me when you decide when you want to go," she slung her bag over her shoulder and pointed at Foggy's chest. "Make sure he does."

Claire knelt beside Matt's head, and cupped his face gently; he felt the rough pads of her fingertips worn by countless detergents and soaps. Matt forgot Foggy was there. For a spilt second his head started to wonder, what they could have been like.

He would have only hurt her more in the long run.

She kissed his forehead, and he closed his eyes, taking in their warmth and softness; "take care, Matthew."

* * *

 _Riley_

At dawn, Riley woke up to the sound of groaning. She found Tommy puking into the toilet, the symptoms of his withdrawal in full effect. She didn't say much, just went to him and rubbed his back offering him a clean towel when he was done. He was sweaty and complained of joint pains afterwards. It was like he was experiencing this for the first time again. But the methadone did the trick. A Band-Aid to stave the ailments he had now, and she hoped he wouldn't need it in the distant future.

The next week, Riley and Tommy began preparing for his trial, which couldn't be dismissed at the hearing. The Murdock half of the lawyer duo had taken a sick leave, leaving Nelson to handle everything. Riley had not heard from her vigilante colleague either. Which she did not mind, _he shouldn't be leaping from buildings any time soon._

They had some cushion time before the trial, though. It gave them a chance to attempt at being a family again; Tommy moved into the guest room, they went grocery shopping together, tried to have at least one meal together everyday.

Despite the normalcy of the past few days her brother was slightly on edge and more passive aggressive than usual, in better health but still suffering from nightmares that he didn't like to share with her. She had been trying to convince him to go to AA meetings on the weekends, but he still had not come around to the idea.

"I went to the church," she told him one day at breakfast, seeing no reason to hide it from him any longer. "The one you crashed in, where you lived." He looked at her, stupefied. "I saw grandma's blanket, you'd kept it all these years...and I saw what you were stashing in it."

He nearly dropped his spoon; "Fuck—"

At least he didn't try to deny it. She held her hand up; "I don't know how long you were there for, or whether you sold the drugs to others. But I got rid of the evidence."

He blinked at her, stunned, "You what?"

"I did it to protect you. I burned everything." She didn't mean to be harsh but he needed to be reminded of the lengths to which she protected him; "I want you to know that I risked a lot by doing that."

"You could get in loads of trouble, sis."

 _Oh Tommy, if only you knew how much trouble I've been in these past few months._

"I know, and you can't tell the lawyers," she said stonily. "This has to go with you to the grave. With what we're facing, I just need you to tell me, and be honest with me, as I am with you now." She stared at him directly in the eyes, a reflection of her own. "Did you deal the heroin I found?"

I swallowed, a little taken aback, but held her gaze, "no, I didn't."

"But you have in the past? When you were with Natalie?"

He pushed his food away from him, slouching in his chair, finding it difficult to fully explain things to her; "Friends called me up for some gear, I shared it, it was...it was no harm meant," he replied, hesitantly.

"I understand," that was all she expected, she did that when she was his age too, younger than that even. She was the go-too gal once upon a time. A reputation she was glad to keep in the dark of her past. "It's important that that happened a long time ago, and that right now you've been clean."

With his track record, it was about image from now on. They needed to see that he was on a straight and narrow track to recovery.

..

She popped into the precinct to check the progress of the dupe blood sample she dropped off at the CI department. It was lunchtime for them and the lab was empty. Riley logged onto the computers and changed the record to being inconclusive. When Alfie got the alert to pick it up, he would have nothing; _he'll be back to square one._ She felt a bit uneasy in the stomach as she logged out of the computer.

She also called the hospital to check on the comatose Gardner. There was no change in his condition. But there was added security to his room. _Sinjon has figured out that this guy has a price on his head._ He wakes up, he'll talk, but if he doesn't wake up…

She shivered recalling what it was like to be in that hospital. The nightmares of it still haunted her. She'd gotten pneumonia whilst in the ICU; she'd been so weak she thought she might drop dead one night. _Or someone will smother me to death._ Riley had made enemies being a cop, and being that vulnerable frightened her to her very core.

* * *

 _Foggy_

He couldn't believe it himself. Matthew Murdock AKA the Daredevil was actually in a hospital, getting treated. He'd gotten an x-ray, a hospital gown, hospital food, all the normal hospital things,injured people did when they electively sought the full spectrum of medical aid the great city of New York could provide.

He could sing hallelujah to the heavens if he didn't feel like there was a boulder sitting on his chest. It had been several days now since his friend sustained the gunshot injury. But after the maddening news he heard at the precinct beforehand; he wasn't sure whether he should yell at Matt or just punch him in the face. Probably both.

He knocked on the ward door, not like he needed too though, "hey."

Matt was on the bed, thigh swathed in thick bandages, glumly staring off into space. "Hey," he replied, tersely. "I'm starting to regret agreeing to this."

Foggy walked into the room, hands in pockets; "you're safe, routinely checked on by a handful of medical professionals from different fields." He shrugged, "I have to say, I couldn't be happier."

He could tell Matt was starting to get fed-up with being static for so long, _he has no right to be fed up, though. That's my thing._

"What about the detective?" Asked Matt.

"Hasn't been here since her brother was discharged, there's nothing to worry about." Foggy said, "Karen wants to stop by at some point, by the way."

Matt pressed his lips together, unhappy.

"C'mon, you know there was nothing I could do to stop her," Foggy pointed out sensibly. It was Matt's reaction to Karen wanting to drop by, that made him an inch from totally snapping like a twig. He was just so sick of it. So sick of the lies, sick of feeling his stomach hit the floor when he thought about what would happen if Matt was dead. How all of their lives could crumble to piece because of one mishap.

"I know," said Matt, stiffly. He tilted his head down, forehead wrinkled as he caught onto something; "What is it?" He asked him after listening to his heart beat or whatever his weird super senses was picking up from Foggy.

There was no way he could hold it in any longer. He was going to burst out any moment then. Foggy sighed through his teeth, his face darkening with frustration; "I was at the station just now, talking to Brett... he says Daredevil stopped a mugging last night."

Matt grimaced, knowing that he couldn't lie himself out of this one, not anymore.

Foggy snickered, but his tone was as arid as a desert; "Yeah I don't know how I feel about that."

Matt shut his eyes, shaking his head; "Look you-"

"You promised," he cut him off brusquely. He wanted to reach out and shake some sense into Matt, but he kept his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"I didn't promise anything."

"You were shot," he almost yelled out, saying every word to it's own beat as if he had to spell it out for Matt like he was a 5 year old. " _Shot,_ you are in no condition to be out there stopping petty thieves. Especially this soon!"

"They drew knives on her, she was barely seventeen," Matt shot back with fervour. "You can't ask me to ignore that; someone crying out for help, you just can't," he said through barred teeth.

"Karen thinks you're in a fight club, or an alcoholic, she comes up with the craziest scenarios. The bruises, the busted lips, you simply can't hide them anymore. You need to tell her!"

"Everything in its own time," he hissed.

Foggy ran his hand through his hair in frustration; "I hate covering for you," he said, fingers clawing into the air.

"I know you do."

"We couldn't help Thomas Knight at the hearing."

Matt sighed deeply, calming himself; "I know."

"Which means you won't stop working with her."

"She's an asset."

Foggy sat down in the visitors chair, hands clasped together, that crushing feeling of dread sitting on his chest. "If you're caught, what happens to the firm?"

Matt rolled his eyes; "I'm not going to get caught-"

"Just answer the fucking question," he snapped. Foggy guessed what he would say already, but he needed to hear it from Matt's mouth, to validate it, to make it stick with him. "No more if's, no more deflecting, just tell me... what happens?"

"You and Karen carry on without me," he replied without even taking a few minutes, hell, a few seconds to really think about it.

"Oh, just like that? We carry on," he flicked his hand through the air at how flimsy and full of bullshit that conclusion was.

"And when you're caught-that's when you want Karen to find out?"

"That's all I can say, Foggy. You try to-," Matt stopped, unable to hear it out loud himself. "You just keep going." Foggy knew that Matt knew he was hurting him. But they needed to talk this through, even if it killed both of them.

"You mean you want us to just move on? Well, it's not that simple," said Foggy. "You'd go to jail, I would lose my license, _at best_." He wanted Matt to see it from his point of view. Foggy was upset, yet infuriated at the same time, "how can you just tell me to carry on? Like it's so easy to do that? When all of us could lose everything?"

Matt's voice was thick; "I'm sorry."

He shook his head in utter disbelief, he and Karen deserved more than that; "another apology...that's not enough." Foggy stood up.

Matt tried to say something, he was struggling to find the right words, it didn't matter anyway. Foggy was done listening to him.

"Maybe it's good that you won't be around for the next few weeks," Foggy said, as ice cold as a glacier. He headed towards the door, too nauseated to even look at Matt anymore.

"It'll give us some practice for when you're really gone."


	12. Chapter 12

_**Posted two chapters today! Make sure to read Chapter 11, essentially just split one big chapter, there had to be a natural break between the two because of Matt's condition. Fanfiction has been a bit glitchy, and no ones been getting emails about updates, including me. I've notified the site. In the mean time I'll republish some chapters to make sure everyone gets an email.**_

 _Three weeks later..._

 _Riley_

Tomorrow she would be back to work officially. The day before that, Riley and Tommy sat inside the conference room at Nelson & Murdock, waiting. It seemed like Murdock was going to be a no show again, he'd been absent for a handful of their meetings already. It looked like Nelson was running the show solo. Ms. Page was stretching the limits of her job description as legal assistant since the workload doubled between the two of them.

"What's taking them so long?" Complained Tommy, restless as usual, even she was getting bored of waiting for their attorneys (or attorney) to sort their shit out.

Riley stood and listened more closely to their conversation in the reception outside. "Eavesdrop, much?" Scoffed Tommy, she shushed him.

"I'm really worried about him, Foggy," Ms. Page said, her growing frustration obvious. Nelson sounded less prevailed to tell the story he'd been repeating to everyone on a loop."He's _fine_ , you saw him, he needs the time off."

"I still don't understand why he won't let us do something about it," Page said, clearly at the end of some line. "A little while ago he came in with a busted lip, I never said anything, and after a while I stopped asking. Because I wanted to give him a chance to tell me himself, but I can't just ignore-" she rose her voice and Nelson shushed her quickly. The rest of their conversation was completed in hushed tones.

From the sound of it Murdock was either a drug addict or very ill. Franklin wasn't as a crafty a liar as he thought he was. And whatever lies Murdock had Nelson tell her, Karen was not on it with them. It didn't make a difference to Riley, as long as she was getting the legal representation her brother needed she'd take either of the attorneys.

"I apologize for the delay," said Nelson joining them shortly after.

Riley returned to her seat; "No show of your partner again, Nelson? You should change the name of the firm."

Nelson looked embarrassed, but he wasn't flustering for answers like before, "I suspect he'll make a full recovery this week, any day now, in fact."

Then, there was talking outside the conference room, and a loud and excited Karen Page. Riley angled her chair towards the door to see what it could be. "Well I'll be damned," said Nelson under his breath.

Miraculously, Matthew Murdock walked into the conference room. From the way everyone was reacting, no one was expecting to see him upright. Knight's eyes went round as she took him in, there was quite a distinction from how he was a few weeks ago compared to now; he was walking slower, limping a little, almost using his cane for stability rather than direction.

"Jesus Christ, did you run into a wall Murdock? Like, 50 times?"

There was a beat of stunned silence. And then Foggy burst out laughing, slapping the table. She was sure some of the laughter was masking his nervousness. _Nervous...but why exactly?_

"You know, most upstanding members of society would be appalled by some of the comments you've made about me," said Murdock coolly. Whatever awkwardness she'd created when she asked him about Sweeney seemed to be nonexistent, she appreciated the banter they could have again. No matter his physical appearance, everything seemed normal.

"I'm just appalled by the fact that you look like hell." She stood and leaned into his face taking a closer look at the yellowing bruise on his temple, he almost ducked from her but he didn't, his shiftiness threw her off a little. "Do you need me to arrest someone?"

"Absolutely not." He immediately went to touch the bruise, suddenly conscious of it. "But thank you for the offer."

"Yeah, long time no see," she went back to her seat.

"Yeah," Nelson concurred scowling at his partner, not enthusiastic to see him. Instead of his usual seat beside Franklin, Murdock sat closer to Tommy.

"Thanks for taking the lead, I'm glad to be back," Murdock said to his partner in an official tone. Too formal for people who had been friends since college for Christ's sake.

"No problem," Nelson responded, stiff as wood. She felt like she was in the caught in the middle of a heated argument, that was completely silent.

"We've missed you Murdock, I know my sister has," Tommy smirked. She gave her brother a sour look.

"I'm glad you've recovered from the accident," said Riley, "have you been keeping track of everything at home?"

"Yes, even though I'm not here, my partner and I were working together behind the scenes. I would never leave a case like this voluntarily," said Murdock. It sounded a bit too rehearsed for her, but she couldn't tell what was going on behind those red glasses. "So, let's get to work."

She scrubbed at a pesky piece of penne on her plate as Tommy put away the place mats in the drawer. Riley suggested that they make the time in their schedule to have dinner together.

"Okay be honest, how was the pasta?"

"Pretty good, you followed the instructions on the packet down to a T." Tommy pointed into the trashcan where she had failed to hide the instant pasta packets she'd grabbed from the 24 Hour mini mart across the street.

"Ah shit," she put the plate she was washing down, "You just had to look in there, didn't you?"

"Thought this was supposed to be a homecooked meal?"

"We are at home, and it was cooked," she argued, badly.

He laughed; "mmhm, took a lot of effort to boil a pot of water."

"I baked that pie, though." He gave her a flat, unconvinced look; "Okay I bought that pie," she admitted, chuckling to herself, honestly her culinary skills were horrific, it was a miracle the kitchen had not burnt down. "I forgot I promised dinner, alright? Totally spaced out on it, but wanted to come through."

"You're back at work, you're busy. It's cool. Kudos, sis."

"So," she lifted her brows at Tommy; "That girl at AA, I saw you talking to her." He'd finally agreed to go to them, they were having a positive effect it seemed.

Tommy looked politely unfazed by her teasing; "What's with the suspicious look?"

Riley shrugged noncommittally, placing the plate she washing onto the drying rack; "She's cute."

He made an annoyed grunt; "Don't tell me you ship me with her."

"I never said that," she replied, innocently, "You looked like you were hitting it off when I picked you up."

Tommy thought about it for a moment, chewing his lip; "I'm not ready, after Natalie, it hard not to see her everywhere." He stared at his shoes, despondently; "Even in that girl."

Riley felt a little guilty for reminding him of it, but she had to help him move on somehow; "I get it."

"What about you? You used to push guys aside left and right."

True. Not like any of them ever turned out to be successful, her love life was akin to finding a needle in a haystack. She came to a point where she was done with boys wasting her time, especially with how hectic her life had gotten after her promotion and then even more recently after the Fisk shooting. _I almost died; I can't waste my life on worthless relationships._

"I don't have time to date, and when have any of my relationships lasted anyway?" She reminded him. Tommy had not been there for the majority of it, but he'd witnessed enough to know that Riley was not very lucky in that department.

"What happened to- who was it?" He tapped his chin, thinking, she gave him a sidelong glance. Siblings could be great company and all, but also insufferable.

Then he snapped his fingers when the name returned to him; "Gus,"

She groaned; "No, no, no." She hated reliving old flings, it always felt like she made the same mistakes again and again.

"I liked him."

"Yeah so did I, then he made a sexist joke and I was like 'nah, man,'" she sassily waved a finger through the air; "I was happy to see the back of that head." Somehow the guys she dated always an underlying malignancy that became apparent too late.

Tommy was snapping his fingers vigorously, like he did when he had an idea, it usually wasn't a very clever one;

"You should ask out that lawyer!" He burst out with too much enthusiasm for her to even take it as a joke.

"Don't—"

"Yes, the blind one. He's a good looking lad," he shrugged. Thomas liked to make a gag and pretend he was a teenage girl babbling on about boys; "I mean like I don't know what the rest of his face looks like without the glasses but, I mean that _jawline_."

She rolled her eyes, she would never even consider dating a lawyer. "Shut up, you know rather than get nosy into my personal life, why don't you bring that lazy ass over here and help me do the dishes?"

...

Around midnight Tommy was fast asleep in the guest room. It was comforting to have someone else in the apartment. She couldn't remember the last time they'd lived together. It had a time stamp though; _I'll give it three months tops._ At some point her brother would decide that he wanted to part ways and live on his own. He was innately a drifter no matter how many times he said he wanted to set down roots.

A stable job, a purpose in her heart, was what set Riley apart from her brother. She'd never leave New York, or the police force. She'd trained for years to separate herself from who she was. She couldn't let it all slip away.

Then there was a muffled ringing noise coming from her armoire, perplexed, she pulled the drawer open.

The burner phone.

She snatched it from its place between her gym clothes and socks, staring at the screen and the little phone icon shaking. She forgot it was in there. There was only one number stored in it; only one person it could be.

She pressed the answer button and lifted it to her ear. She intended to bypass the hello, but he spoke first.

 _"Knight."_

"Why are you calling me?" She wanted to know, in a shouted whisper.

 _"I need to know our next step. I'm on your roof,"_ he said calmly.

Her anger flared. _The balls on this one._ She shut her bedroom door and spoke at full volume; "you're not meant to call me; I didn't schedule a meeting—"

 _"We need to talk,"_ he cut her off brusquely. _"And I'm not leaving until you do."_

She licked her lips, she'd been given a new case that week at work, and with Tommy's upcoming trial it was hard to focus on so many things at once, but she had not forgotten the looming threat of Sweeney. "Fine. I'll be there in five."

She hung up and pulled on a sweater. In the suddenness of Daredevil's visit she forgot she wasn't living alone anymore and jumped out of her skin when Tommy walked out of the guest room.

"Where are you going?" He asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes, but noticing the sweater she was wearing that was too warm for indoors in this weather.

"To the roof, for some alone time."

He squinted at her concernedly; "You're not smoking again are you?"

"No, fresh air only."

He gave a sleepy half-nod, "okay, 'night then," he yawned and returned to his room.

 _What would he think if he found out what I was doing?_ She asked herself as she walked over to the windowsill. Her little brother didn't care much for police protocol or the law, unless it he was in the thick of it like he was now and she forced him to take things seriously. With that in mind; the Knight siblings were survivors and bandits, no matter how many badges and uniforms you put Riley in or suits you put Tommy in. They looked out for theirs and their own, and Tommy would definitely call her out if he thought she was doing something stupid and reckless.

She halted and considered getting her emergency gun from the fireplace. _He's recovering from injuries though, he won't make it far if he tried anything._ A gun firing would also set off too much attention anyway, definitely Tommy's.

Riley lifted the window and swung her leg over onto the landing. It shook a little beneath her added weight, _it's about as stable as a stack of cardboard boxes._ She hadn't come out there since she stopped smoking and doing whatever recreational drugs cops aren't meant to do.

Nevertheless she was on that rooftop three minutes later, and Daredevil was waiting for her for another one of their customary chats.

"You've clearly made no attempt to recover before going back out again," she said, hugging herself as the wind nipped at her clothes.

"I haven't been that active lately. I didn't like how things were left. I thought it was necessary we followed up."

He was favouring his right leg. "You got shot in the leg, you shouldn't be moving, let alone scaling buildings."

"I've been through worse."

She scoffed; "I don't care if you got some black market surgeon to patch you up, you need proper medical attention."

"I've gotten it," he said, "I can't believe how much you care, detective," he mocked.

"Oh please," she shook her head at his brazen faced comment. "You could've just left the convenience store alone, y'know. Then you would be fine now."

"I was there first."

"We had it covered."

"It was three versus two," he contended. "The thief holding the woman hostage? He was a millisecond away from blowing her head open. Trigger finger, that one," he crossed his arms; "He would've shot her, and then you."

"Oh really? And how would you know he had a trigger finger?" She glared at him.

"I just did."

"You just did," she stated, cynically.

"I trust you dealt with the sample of my blood."

"I did, and Alfonso was not unhappy, he yelled at the CI's, which was entertaining for anyone who wasn't me." She knew what it was like to be hitting a wall with an investigation, you were basically giving yourself a concussion. The guilt still bothered her when she pondered on the subject for too long.

"Anything on the vigilante task force?"

"You're in the clear for now. The DA currently has no interest in you, and Alfie's mother isn't well, he flew down to Florida to see her. His second in command is a dickwad, about as shallow as a puddle, there's no problem there."

"How is the DA involved in this?"

"That's on a need to know basis." She was working against DA Reyes anyway. _I saved her and her daughter's life, and she thanked me for that, definitely won't thank me for what I'm doing._

"This task force, is her work?"

"Like I said; need to know."

He wanted to prod further but could tell she wasn't going to budge on the topic; "And what about Sweeney?"

"We barely have anything on Sweeney at the precinct," said Riley. "He's been gone for more than a decade."

He seemed to be a lot more in control of his reaction when she mentioned Sweeney. "It makes sense, Kitchen Irish were like Fisk's underlings, when he was in power he made them scatter."

"I see getting shot in the leg has changed your temperament. Was it the blood loss?"

"More like time to build a new perspective."

"I don't know how else to help Tommy at the moment, but I'm certainly in a better position now that I'm back at work."

"Catching him is important but we can do more for the city in the time being."

"'Do more?'" She reiterated disdainfully and chuckled. "I should have put this agreement in writing, because it's obviously hasn't stuck with you yet. The only time we need to interact is when we're going after our common enemy; otherwise we stay out of each other's way. I made that clear."

"There's an arms dealer, a Domenico White," Daredevil went on, ignoring her, "heard of him?"

Alarms lit up in her head, "maybe," she said tentatively.

He crossed from the other end of the roof and leaned on the wall she was nearest, catching the interest in her tone. "I have a lead on him. Someone you know in Metro General may be able to give us the information to take him down."

"And who would that be?"

"He's the boy you saved in the alley, the one who was shot?"

"Wes Cleon?" She had not given the kid a thought for weeks now, with so much else going on.

"Domenico recruited Cleon when he was 14. He's the reason the kid's in the hospital."

She sighed resignedly, "What information could Wes give, now? He hasn't budged from his stance on protecting that son of a bitch in weeks."

"He must have an idea of the guard rotations around Domenico's base. The boss was out of town when Wes got shot. The kid's been asking Nelson whether he can leave the hospital soon. But he can't while he's under arrest. He's lying about everything, because he knows when Domenico is coming back, and wants to get of the city ASAP. When his boss does come back, I'm going to shut him down." Daredevil tapped on the wall, leaning to in her direction. "And if you get to the scene first, it would look spectacular for your reputation."

It came barreling out of him so fast, she didn't know how to reply at first; "this is all music to my ears; except I don't have the jurisdiction to see him. Murdock made sure of that."

For a second she could have sworn he smiled, but it was too dark to be certain, "I'm sure if you ask nicely he'll change his mind."

She frowned, "doubt it. He's already knee deep in my personal life, I don't want to owe him any more favours." She couldn't possibly face him again with something completely unrelated to Tommy's case after their conversation on Sweeney. It had been mortifying, since she obviously read him wrong. She thought Murdock would've wanted real justice, but he had people he had to protect too, and sometimes staying away and playing it safe was the way to go.

Riley was just too stubborn to grasp the concept of it.

"Maybe Murdock knows something," she suggested, "he's spoken with him more than I have."

"He doesn't talk to Murdock the way he talks to you."

She rolled her eyes; "jeez are you eavesdropping on everyone in my life, now?"

There it was; that sly smirk again. It disappeared just as swiftly as it came; "talk to him, and we could actually make progress on our vows to make a difference in Hell's Kitchen. You're a vice detective—"

"Recently unsuspended vice detective," she interrupted him with a finger, "who get's involved where she should not. They were issuing warnings to me like I was some kindergartener. I don't have any more chances to spare; I just got my job back." Getting to wear her badge again had been the highlight of her week; heck her month, she was not about to relinquish it all over again.

He gave an offhanded shrug, "that didn't stop you from running into the heist at the grocery store, saving everyone there."

True. Alfie could have gotten into huge trouble for that but he didn't, he advocated for her to the captain. "Yeah, but it's not the same."

"It's still your duty to get guns off the street, right? Stop more cases like Wes Cleon from happening. That's still important isn't it?"

She bit her lip, thinking about what he said and exhaled roughly, "of course it is."

"Then what's stopping you? Captain Humphrey?" Daredevil queried, egging her on, growing more steadfast with his argument. "Fuck what he says. You're already breaking the rules at this second, what's a harmless chat with a teenager going to change?"

He was annoyingly right. "It depends, is the lawyer going to let me see him?"

He gave her a half-smile; "I'll have a word with Nelson & Murdock, they're very accommodating."

"They better not act surprised to see me there, D," she warned him. "Alright then, Domenico White; we're shutting you down."

The next day, one of the rookies she had been training was on sick leave. With the precinct still being understaffed, Riley worked on the case he was assigned too. She had to pick up a witness who was at the crime scene, it was a no brainer. It was towards the end of the day anyway, and she could get this done quickly.

She parked the squad car outside Fogwell's gym and strolled in, it would be closing soon but she reckoned she would try her luck anyway. The hallway had notice boards on them, old flyers of boxing matches layered over each other. There was the faint smell of sweat that she was familiar with.

Riley had not stepped foot in a gym in months. Catching pneumonia while in the ICU had weakened her, and she'd loss a lot of muscle mass. To this day her condition still made her short of breath, the doctor instructed her to avoid strenuous activity as much as possible.

But it was hard, for someone like he to follow the doctor's orders, even though he was right, she could feel the strain of any physical activity immediately and it lasted for a while too. It was going to be a slow journey to regain her prime state of health again.

Fogwell's ring was in the centre of the gym and overall the whole place empty. She spotted a man packing mitts into a bag, she recognised him from the ID she'd researched before coming.

He looked her over, as she was not dressed in gym attire; "Can I help you, miss?"

"Detective Knight," she showed him her badge, "I'm looking for Justin Bronson, I believe he's one of your students, Mr. Walsh."

The trainer folded his thick arms, and squinted suspiciously at her; "What are they saying he did?" In her peripheral vision she saw that Walsh was not alone in the empty gym. Someone else was at one of the punching bags, taking swings at it; the place was also dimly lit.

"Witnesses place him at the scene of a break in three nights ago. I'm just here to pick him up for questioning." She could already tell he was going to make this simple task difficult for her somehow.

"Well it wasn't Justin," he said, proving her right, "because he was practicing his jump kicks with me last night, and his technique was still half-assed. You've got the wrong kid, officer."

"Late night practice?" She repeated, nonplussed. "You close early on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Some customers I allow to stay late," he nodded at the occupied punching bag, the person she'd spotted was going at it hard. She did a double take; the wide, well-built shoulders she'd never noticed beneath the dress shirts, the floppy brown hair…she recognised who it was.

Flummoxed, she spaced out on the reason she was there at all; "well—um. I'm afraid I still have to bring him in."

"He's good kid, that Justin. He wasn't there," affirmed Walsh, obviously protecting the teenager he trained.

"He can tell me that himself at the station," she handed Walsh her business card. "Either someone will be on their way to his house this second, or they'll come by tomorrow, he can't avoid it," she said gravely. Walsh gave her a dirty look; she wouldn't be surprised if he tossed her card into the trash after she left.

Walsh threw the sack of mitts over his shoulder and went to the storeroom. Riley looked over at Matthew Murdock pummelling the punching bag. She took a moment to admire the definition of his arms and shoulder blades, but couldn't help but notice that his form could be improved.

As she walked over to him, she wondered when he started boxing and who taught him. _Did he always know how to throw a punch? Did his dad teach him before he became blind?_ If so, it had been a very long time ago.

She sidestepped the swinging punching bag, his fists were wrapped in white cloth and there was sweat on his brow. His jaw was tight, mind focused. He'd been at it a while.

"Murdock?" She said out loud. He was in deep concentration, but stopped and tried to catch the punching bag as it swung to and fro, ferociously. She put her hand out and helped him stop it so that they were on opposite sides of it.

"Detective," he panted.

"I am in shock," said Riley, laughing. "You box."

He smiled; "Got to stay in shape somehow, Knight."

She stopped leaning on the punching bag and changed her position to lean on the boxing ring; "That's very true," she agreed folding her arms. Murdock was constantly a mystery to her, no matter how obvious his story appeared to be. The cut he got from the bike messenger accident had healed nicely, enough that it didn't bother him when he boxed.

"Can't be blind and also diabetic, right?" Murdock said. They both laughed. Still, she was caught off guard that he would even try to exacerbate that kind injury, it wasn't fatal, but still deep nonetheless. _Perhaps he has a higher pain threshold than I thought; perhaps he's got a lot of aggression to unleash and it can't wait._ Did it have something to do with the coldness Nelson directed towards him at the meeting? Or was it something else?

"How long have you been coming here, for?"

"Years now." He pointed at where Walsh had stood; "Kieran always closes it late for me."

"Battlin' Jack Murdock." She gestured to the notice board she'd seen when she walked in; "He was your dad?"

"Yeah."

She tried to imagine what childhood might have been like for Matthew Murdock. It must have been hard to support a family off the wages earned from boxing matches, and also caring for a blind kid. "You had to inherit that stubborn attitude from somewhere," said Riley. Murdock snickered.

"Can I make a suggestion?" She said, he looked confused. "About your form?"

"My form?" He licked his lips, biting his bottom one, as if trying not to laugh at some joke she was missing. "I didn't think there was anything wrong with it."

"A few things."

He nodded; "sure," he angled himself back to the punching bag, in the ideal position he needed to be in. It seemed like he had to have been in that spot a million times before to know exactly where it was. She stood on his right hand side.

"You're going to show me some moves," he said, that beguiling, uncanny expression playing on his face that she could never read.

"Just making some adjustments."

The edge of his mouth quirked up a little. "Your leg still shaky?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"To make it a little easier on it. When you do the right hook, try to position yourself here," she held onto his shoulder and nudged his feet apart with her own to what she wanted.

"Part your feet like this, and swing into the punch with your hips."

"To generate enough force to get at that malevolent punching bag," he joked.

She worked on fixing his arms; she held on his right forearm and moved it by the elbow upwards into the formation of a right hook. Then with her other hand she brought his left to cover his face. "Always have this up, to block the opponent."

She realised he wasn't wearing any glasses. She'd never seen his eyes. They were probably too private for anyone outside of his circle of friends to see. They didn't look up at her face this close to his, which threw her off for a moment; until she remembered he was blind and had no idea exactly where her head was in relation to her body.

His eyes were pale green, youthful, and kind. She was holding the back of his left hand, and closed the fingers into a fist. His head was lifted straight ahead in the direction of the punching bag. But then, he moved it to face hers, as if he could feel her stare on his cheek. Her heart raced; that five o clock shadow, the bone structure of the chin, the mouth, there was something suddenly so different about that part of his face; as if she was seeing it for the first time but also seeing it for the hundredth time.

 _Where exactly has he been these past few weeks? Was it an accident?_

She swallowed, pushing away the absurd thoughts. _Stop it Riley, stop it now_. She let go of him, running her hands through her hair sheepishly; "ahem, yeah so overall this will ease the weight on your leg."

The position she'd left him in waned but then he got back into it and did the punch. "Better." Before he could even respond she announced; "I got to go."

"Nothing else to show me?"

"I have to be somewhere else."

"Alright, thanks for the tip, see you soon then."

"See you."

Just before she was out of earshot of Murdock. She glanced at him one more time. He was doing an uppercut and right hook combo...

And it was perfect.

He was striking with power and precision, and the silhouette was eerily similar to…

She shook her head, deciding she'd have better wits about her once she'd had some dinner.

 _Oh my God Riley, don't be an idiot. He's blind, for God's sake._

 **Oh yeah guys, we're getting there ;) My finals are around the corner but once that's out of the way, I'll be writing more often. Trying out labelling before each POV change, I hope that makes things clearer for some readers! What do you think? Anyway, thanks for the feedback! And thank you for your patience!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Important! -There was something wrong with the site when I posted Chap 11 & 12 earlier in May, hope you guys get the email for this one! **

* * *

It was late and she was waiting at a red light on her way home from the station. That was when the burner phone in her inside jacket pocket started to ring. She made a frustrated noise. It was Daredevil, yet again, not listening to the terms of their agreement.

"What did I say about calls?" She snapped when she answered.

He was breathing heavily as if he was running; _"you haven't spoken to Wes yet."_

She glared at the never-ending red light. "I've been busy, D, rounding up drug peddlers and such. Are you going to do that for me?"

" _Say the word, and I'll give you a hand if you need it."_ She imagined he was leaping like a spider from a fire escape, smiling and relishing his chance to boast.

"I'll talk to him when I get the time."

" _Alright, but first I need you to make a left after the red light and block off the T-junction three streets down. There's a perp on a motorcycle headed that way, going pretty fast."_

The moment before she refused the light turned green, _help him or go home._ A second too long and the impatient driver behind her started to honk, it sounded like a gong, demanding a choice from her. In a split second decision she signaled, and took that left.

"I'm going to hang up now," she announced to him and stepped on the accelerator. She turned on her police siren, it wailed as she neared the junction.

In her peripheral vision she could see a man on a motorcycle on a collision course for the car. Riley blocked off the street, brakes screeching, and rubber burning. The perp crashed into her car; bike dragged out from under him as he was flung over her hood, tumbling across it to land on the opposite side of the car.

She rushed out of the driver's seat, gun out; the criminal stumbled to his feet and bounded off. She broke into a run. She didn't want to shoot him. In the back of her head she knew Daredevil was somewhere chasing the perp too, but in that moment she was in her element as a police officer.

She shortly caught up to him. A projectile hit him across the head and he fell to the ground, groaning. A classic Daredevil move she was starting to recognize.

But it wasn't only the man on the ground that felt like they were on the precipice of getting knocked out. "Police, on your knees, hands in the air!" She ordered between raspy breaths, feeling a little faint, her heart pounding. _Keep it together, Riles._

"Ah shit," he moaned, clutching his head. The bag of money he had robbed off some unsuspecting victim was a few paces in front of him. After a few more shouted orders he was handcuffed and on his knees, Miranda rights read out loud.

Riley was fast on her feet, but boy, this took the wind out of her. She'd chased down dozens of criminals these past few months, from Daredevil to the pettiest thieves. Yet each time she did, she could feel the air searing her lungs; she was so unfit. _I was the best once upon a time, now its colossal effort to maintain the bare minimum._

She bent down to tug him to his feet and shoved him back towards the car. She called in the incident. She shoved the criminal to the ground, her anger spilling out on him as she ordered him to kneel.

It sucked that she wasn't as good as she used to be, or perhaps she was slowly beginning to see that it had been in her ego in her inflated head. It was a dream come true once, to be promoted to detective, but she was younger then. She was still a good shot, but in no way the best in the force anymore with the new recruits from the academy.

Did anyone come to a point in their career where they felt obsolete? She asked herself. It must happen, now and again.

She walked around to inspect the state of her car. There was a sizeable dent where the bike had crashed into it; she let out a string of expletives under her breath. The sight of it was as annoying as the sound of nails scratching on a chalkboard. What a way to ruin her entire week.

The burner phone rang again, and it incensed her further.

"Are you gonna pay to fix my car?" She spat, and spun around to spot where he was lurking, because she knew he definitely would be. She saw his silhouette on a roof to her right, the gold glow of the streetlight faintly outlining him.

" _I'm sorry about that."_

"No you're not."

" _He was going to get away, so thank you, detective."_

"You know—" but to rattle her cage even more he hung up on her. She scowled, picturing that annoying, self-satisfied, smirk on his face.

"First that asshole with the horns, then a cop, just my fucking luck," bemoaned the criminal on the ground to himself.

"Shut up," she barked.

* * *

The next morning, as she clocked in at the station she spotted assistant district attorney Tower in the lobby. She did not regard the DA's office in any favorable manner since their office's new stance on drug trafficking meant that they went viciously after people like her brother. He saw her looking in his direction, he gestured her over with his finger like she was one of his subordinates. She almost snapped at his arrogance but had to remind herself that these lawyers were actually meant to be on her side.

 _They're all the same though, aren't they?_

Her greeting was civilized enough; "Hello Mr. Tower."

"Welcome back, detective. Can you spare a moment of your time?"

 _You obviously already have my attention don't you?_ She wanted to say, but held herself back.

"The vigilante task force has not been producing the results we expected. It's become," he paused for a monumental sigh, "stagnant," he finished, austerely.

"We had a lead, a blood sample—"

"It came back inconclusive, Valentin called me himself about it, before he abruptly left town."

She instantly fell into defensive mode. "His mother's very sick, after losing his sister it—"

"Yes, how tragic," he interrupted, clearly not bothering to empathize with Alfie or her for that matter. "Let's not beat around the bush, the task force is flailing. I spoke with your Captain and I'm considering reassigning it to someone else. "

She guarded her reaction, the next person would be much harder to watch if it wasn't Alfonso. "Like who?"

That was when Tower smiled as he finally came to his point; "the district attorney thought of you. You are aware; a new player has joined us, who takes precedent over Daredevil. He's more violent than anything we've ever encountered before, and we need your ambition and gusto." She was not either of the two words he described, "and after all it was your encounter with Daredevil that birthed this task force."

"How can you be so sure it's one man, though?" The massacres this guy left in his wake spoke for themselves. It had to be a group, and he could be their leader.

"I never said it was," said Tower, backtracking. "Either way we need to act now."

"The precinct is divided on all of this." Some of her colleagues would definitely want these masked superheroes to be off the streets, but others rooted for them in secret. Riley did her best to keep to herself nowadays, considering her loud mouth got her suspended before. "Sure we can go after them with all our resources, but then they actually do something useful, and it's messing with all of our head, to be honest."

He shook his finger at her; "it doesn't matter what the precinct's opinion is. He's been targeting several prominent gangs in Hell's Kitchen. I'm not sure if he has a specific agenda, but progress is too slow under Valentin's leadership, and with a psychopath like this on our streets we cannot afford that. Innocents could get hurt. Would you consider it? I know you have obligations in the drug task force."

"I'm not leading it anymore," she'd found that out on her first day back. She was a little salty about it but her suspension had pulled her from making any progress as a leader anyway.

"Then you're free," he concluded.

"I would be honored, but—"

He interrupted her again; she didn't know what it was with lawyers and their incapacity to shut the hell up for two seconds. "Detective. This is quite simply the most important assignment you may get this entire year."

She quirked an eyebrow at that comment. Why were they being so persistent? _It's not like we don't have homicides, domestic violence, human trafficking and another million crimes to solve._ Tower blabbed on, trying a different angle, this time to wound her pride; "Humphrey was doubtful when I suggested you, this soon after your suspension, and in addition to the controversy surrounding your brother's upcoming trial—"

"I know what it looks like," she said steadily, her turn to steamroll over him. "I know the Captain thinks I have PTSD, frankly he can think whatever he wants too, but I quite simply can't take the job," she shrugged offhandedly. "Alfonso can do it better than anyone else, and I don't want to step on any toes," especially that of her best friend. And it would be a conflict of interest considering she was working with Daredevil.

"I'll stay where I'm happiest; my department," she declared, hoping to end this conversation.

Tower looked peeved that he had not persuaded her _._ Riley smiled on the inside, she knew she'd done the right thing.

"Suit yourself," he said, sullenly.

She watched him leave. The new player who wore black, the one she had a picture of in her desk had been around before her run in with Daredevil at the docks. It sounded more like her encounter was an excuse to call a manhunt a task force.

* * *

On her way to a meeting at Nelson & Murdock her little brother texted her in the last minute that he wasn't going to attend, she attributed this to the crabby mood he had been in lately and just texted an; 'ok' back to him. That 'ok' insinuated that he was going to get an earful of scolding from her when she got home later that evening.

As she walked into the lawyer's humble office she thought about how close she was to the end of her time here. She'd miss the rickety floors and the oddballs waiting in the front room to speak to the duo. One of the men waiting was a heavily tattooed biker she had arrested once for a drunk and disorderly.

"Holy shit, I know you," he said, bewildered to see her there, beginning to look apprehensive; the exit was behind her so he'd have to go through her if he wanted to bolt.

"Hello, I'm not here to arrest you, don't worry," she said, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "As long as you don't cause a commotion at Josie's later tonight."

"Knight," greeted Page, getting up from her desk. Riley saw a box of bananas and various tarts on a table off to the side, baked in mismatched glassware; "are you guys serving breakfast here now?"

Page laughed uncomfortably, even if Murdock and Nelson got along with her these days, their legal assistant had always spoken to Riley with some trepidation. "Some people can't make payments on time, so we have plenty of baked goods to keep our stomachs full."

Nelson emerged from the conference room and waved her in, "ah, there's my favorite detective, oh don't touch the peach cobbler, it has my name on it."

She scoffed; "how many times do I have to tell you not to say that?"

Nelson and Murdock were in a more agreeable mood with each other that meeting, still stiff but not cold anymore. She informed them of a new development; "so they charged Tommy with possession and intent to distribute, that bumps him from misdemeanor to a felony." Michaels had come up to her at the station just now to let her know, her stomach had dropped.

"I'm sorry Knight; he made an official statement, he admitted to having those drugs on his person," said Nelson, his shoulders falling. She knew he was right. The attorney had siblings of his own too, he understood her over-protectiveness of her little brother. They'd shared a few stories of their sibling's antics over the course of the month, and she'd gotten to know him better since Murdock hadn't been around.

She said; "but there's no physical proof, that has to hold, right?"

"Yes, it would," Murdock jumped in, "since Natalie isn't pressing charges against your brother, and also with the lack of evidence; he'd get at least 6 months, maybe even less, it's good."

He knew that wasn't want she wanted to hear. She rubbed her index over her mouth. "I don't know why he did it, I still don't get it. If he wanted her attention he definitely has it."

Murdock rolled his chair closer to her, reaching his arm over the table in her direction. "You'll speak to Tommy about this? And if he has any questions or concerns, he can always call us."

Murdock always said it at the end of every meeting. At first she was bored of hearing it but then it became strangely comforting. They'd been invested in the case from the start, it was no wonder people lined up outside to be represented by them.

"I will," she said, hoping he could tell in her voice that she was thankful for their help, since he couldn't see the grateful smile she wore.

"I think the judge will listen to us, he'll be acquitted I can feel it," said Murdock, strongly. She hoped that the judge and jury would have the same confidence in her brother as Murdock did.

* * *

Later at the 15th, it was nearing the time to clock out. Her fellow officers were getting a debriefing from the new lead in the task force, a Detective Fitzgerald, he was over a decade her senior. She knew he'd seen a lot in his time in force, had a few kills under his belt too. Croftsky and Leo had desks on either side of her. All the discipline she'd given them when she was lead, was going to bite her in the ass for the next few weeks now that she was at equal standing with them.

Fitzgerald stood at the front of the conference room, he was slender and fit for his age with dark grey hair closely shaved so he looked bald from afar. "We've established that the Chinese heroin marked with the question mark, isn't being pushed by the Triad, do you have the lab results Leo?"

"The H, is almost the exact same recipe, lower in purity, but laced with PCP," reported Leo.

"It's like what we found at that underground rave a month back inside Vern Woodrugh," said Croftsky.

"So do we think that one of Vern's higher ups were cleaning shop?" Leo speculated.

"If they were they wouldn't have wasted valuable product on him when a bullet would have sufficed," Riley said, correcting him, "but we know it wasn't his people." She took out a sketch of the man who'd Joey, Vern's daughter, had described to her. "Already turned this over to the anti-vigilante unit, but I spoke to Vern's kid at the orphanage; this man asked her to hide in the closet while he dealt with her father."

"How long have you been sitting on that for?" Leo's tone was accusatory.

She remained determined not to overreact; "It didn't become relevant to us until now," she replied, calmly.

"Well she has been on vacation for a while," Croftsky butt in, she'd never liked him and her stance to control her anger was being tested by his sneering face. "Did you go somewhere sunny? Oh, right," he dragged out the last syllable, "you were here, because your brother's on bail for possession charges. What a small world."

The room went icy quiet. She narrowed her gaze at him; "if you have anything else to add, Croftsky, I'd sure like to hear it."

Fitz slapped the white board with a ruler, everyone snapped their necks back to the front. He looked at them crossly, like a tired father; "Alright, I think we've aired out our opinions, we focus on the task at hand; everyone's personal business stays that way. Now take off, it's been a long day."

She gave Croftsky one last stare down before putting on her jacket. "Knight; a word," said Fitz. Croftsky was the one who was out of line, but she was getting in trouble for it?

"Yo guys, McCilwaines?" Leo announced to a few of them behind her, they happily agreed to gather at the bar. Once the room emptied out, Fitzgerald pulled up the seat Leo vacated.

"So what's up Fitz?"

He pointed out the door at the officers leaving; "are you going to join your unit later for drinks?"

She shook her head; "I don't drink." People didn't know that about her, but he didn't ask any unwanted questions.

"I know things have been a little tense these past two weeks."

"Mmhm didn't notice," she said, ironically.

But he was being frank with her; "this task force was in perfectly capable hands with you leading it, but that's not the story anymore, detective." _Don't remind me._ "You're still valuable to us, and you turned down the anti-vigilante task force, I know you would've made leaps and bounds there too if you'd gone, but you stayed here, because you were loyal. I respect that."

She smiled rigidly; "thanks."

"Do you talk to anyone?" He asked, randomly.

She sighed; "oh okay, I know where this is going, I'm a valuable asset but you need to make sure I'm right in the head, and so on, yeah yeah."

"I had a partner, made two fatal hits within the span of a month. He was this rowdy guy, loud, obnoxious, well built, was always looking after his physique. But after what happened, he got quiet, didn't talk to anyone. He shrivelled up." He was being genuine with her, she appreciated that. "I don't want that to happen to you. I mean it." He got out of the chair and pushed it back under the desk. "The in-house psychologist didn't work for me either, perhaps a friend you trust, a pastor, someone. Just talk it out. Okay?"

He was being nice. And he did say something that struck with her. Maybe she was shrivelling up on the inside. She was like the perp who dented her car, on a collision course to somewhere she couldn't predict ever since Amy's death. "Yeah, okay, I see your point."

"Good."

* * *

She thought she would be going home after that until Daredevil called her. They met on one of the precinct's fire escapes. It was dark there and not much light came in from the main street. "What's going on?" She asked him. He simply pointed to the alley two stories below them. There were two men tied up, back to back. She stared back at him in shock and then bounded down the stairs. He jumped down once she got to the ground.

"Reid Eddision and Chris Lott; peddlers on the east side," announced the vigilante like he was presenting a new catch he'd caught from the sea. "You put out an APB on them, and here they are."

She crouched beside them. The two men tied up in a bundle. They were both unconscious. "Did Christmas come early?" He might as well have put a giant red bow on their heads.

He shrugged; "I just wanted to lend a hand. You needed help for your task force, and because of that you haven't spoken to Wes yet. We can't have any delays, Domenico could be back any day now."

Her mouth curled unhappily, she crossed her arms; "I don't need your help to do my job."

He titled his head up slightly, she imagined he was rolling his eyes behind his mask; "You're supposed to say; "thank you," and then I say; "you're welcome."" He acted out little bows and gestures to her.

"You collect crooks and drop them off for me like this?" She held a hand out to the criminals in the middle of the alley. "People will start to notice, and then talk."

She couldn't make up a story to Fiztgerald of how they fell into her lap, and she couldn't ask the two peddlers to keep their mouths shut and lie. She knew very well that Brett crossed with Daredevil now and then, but it wasn't to the point where the vigilante was tying up thugs on her behalf and leaving them for her to collect like Easter eggs. It was too much.

"So what? I've helped the police before; I'm not doing anything different," he said, unconcerned.

She rested her hands on her hips, shaking her head. There was no time to waste arguing in case someone decided to come outside for a smoke or one of the thugs started to wake up. She rolled her eyes and held the handle of the Exit door, leaving him with one last rebuke; "Just try to be little subtler next time, alright?"

* * *

Before heading off to work the next morning she bumped into Tommy in the kitchen, he had not been home last night. He even ignored her as she made breakfast beside him. When she opened the cabinet above his head to get the bread he over-reacted a little. "Watch it, sis," he grunted crassly, pouring himself a mug of coffee. It was his third that morning, _is he sleeping enough?_

She pulled a face at him, trying to read what was on his mind, he had mood swings, but they were becoming more starkly different from the next and unpredictable. "Watch your attitude, will you?"

He didn't look at her. "Is something wrong?" She asked, less sternly.

"I'm just a little…" he pushed a fall of hair out his eyes and gave a shake of his head, "ugh never mind."

He went to the dining table. Riley put down the toast she was making and strolled to the hallway where the bedrooms were. She went into his room and started searching. Less than five minutes later she joined him at the dining table with her cop face on.

"Where were you last night?"

He put down the mug of coffee; "don't try to be a mum, now, please," he derided. Already he was not rubbing her the right way with that comment.

She held up the bag of weed she found, "smoking this up, somewhere?"

He eyes went wide open; "did you fucking search my room?" He got up intending to snatch it from her but she got up too and held the small bag tightly in her fist. She held her finger out to him. "Oh no, you're going to explain yourself, because I thought you were clean for the past thirty days, and then I find this behind the toilet tank." She tossed the bag onto the dining table, "honestly, no points of originality there."

"Is this some kind of interrogation?" He demanded.

"You're lucky it's me and not some other cop," she said, sharply. "It doesn't have to be if you tell me what's wrong with you."

He sat down, his knee restless, his shoulders were tight, forehead creased as if his thoughts were all muddled. "What if," he bit his lip, "what if we lose?" He admitted, the unburdening of his worry helping him to calm down.

"We're not going to lose," she enunciated, forcing herself to believe it too. "I know you're worried, but you have to come to those meetings at Nelson & Murdock. I don't need to have it explained it to me but you do."

"Why?" He asked, throwing his hands out. "I'm going to jail anyway, Riles. My case is a flop, all I wanted to do when I hired those two was to find someone cheap, to help me convince the judge to let me off easy.

"Do not discount their talent just because they were affordable," she said, sharply. "They are good lawyers, you shouldn't be getting mad at them for helping you, it's what they're paid to do."

Tommy bore his eyes into the wall, sulking. Even if the subject was touchy she brought it up anyway; "You know, you didn't have to go and admit what you did; you just had to find Natalie and apologize."

He glowered at her, "I thought she was dead. I didn't know she was fine. I owned up to my mistake. And so it happened that I was charged of many other things I didn't expect to be!"

She pointed at her chest ardently; "I'm a freaking cop, why didn't you talk to me first before you walked into the precinct? You know how easy it is to get in, but it's hard once you get out. We both know how difficult it is to bounce back."

He made a frustrated sound, holding his forehead in his palm.

"You shouldn't beat yourself up over this," said Riley. "If you felt guilty there was other ways to forgive yourself, not go jail."

"It's done, Riley! Why-why are we arguing about this?"

"Because for the past few weeks I was trying not too, but you've clearly given up on yourself."

"I am guilty. I can't lie about that."

Guilty be damned; "you're throwing your life away. There's other ways to fix what you've broken," she retorted.

"I couldn't keep lying. Who knows how many people I've actually hurt? When I didn't even know it."

"You admitted to a crime, fine. Like hell I'm going to let you suffer for it even if you think you deserve it. I wasn't in the position to stop you from going to juvie before but I am now." She snatched up the bag of weed, hating the sight of it in her home when she had been sober for years, she went to the kitchen.

It didn't belong in her home, and she was starting to feel like Tommy didn't belong here either, she was so tired of constantly defending him. What if she needed someone to lean on for a change? Who was there for her? Fitzgerald was right, she needed someone to talk too. She just had to figure out who.

"First you act one way, then you change your mind, and start doing this crap," she held up the bag and dropped it into the garbage disposal.

"I'm late for work." She looked at the breakfast she had not been able to make, her stomach growled. She took her keys from where they hung by the door, but left Tommy with one last slap on the wrist. "This kind of indecisiveness doesn't work out in the long run, Tommy, you're too old to act like this. So please, for the love of God, grow up."

* * *

She arrived at Metro General to speak with Wes Cleon. She parked her car, giving a glare at the dent in her hood that still needed to be fixed. She wasn't liking the vibes she started the morning off with. The bad energy could spoil the rest of her day. After some time to think she had left her apartment not knowing what on earth she'd said to her brother, if any of it made sense to him.

In that moment she didn't see that he was possibly scared of going to jail, but also scared of not going. Of moving forward, of being someone different, there was a lot of pressure to succeed. If he tried, and fell down again, what if he couldn't pick himself up anymore?

And what if she couldn't?

Riley left him a voicemail; "I know I was harsh, I gave it some thought and I understand how it feels impossible to shape yourself into someone else who isn't what you've been told to become. It's scary to face the world, to even attempt to change your past, because you're told that it defines you forever. But it can be positive factor in a new life if you let it be."

She walked down the hallway towards Wes Cleon's room, as she approached it she saw Murdock speaking to a nurse. She was betting on Daredevil to have had a word with the attorney beforehand. The nurse he was with, was quite pretty, she wouldn't be surprised if he was trying to get her number. _Wait, but that has to be the other way around in Murdock's case of course._

The nurse glanced Riley with an uneasiness that was not covered fast enough for her not to notice. Perhaps Murdock had been bad mouthing her? She didn't get a chance to analyse situation any further as she got to them.

"Murdock."

He turned his head slightly in her direction, eyes low, "Detective," he said pleasantly.

Riley spoke to the nurse; "Hi there, I'm Detective Knight, is Wes Cleon awake?"

"Awake and cranky, doesn't understand the concept of staying still," said the nurse, she looked at Riley a little longer; "You're looking much better, detective."

She looked at her stumped at what she meant; "I was working in the ED the night they brought you in."

"Oh of course, I didn't make things easy for a lot of people during my stay, sorry."

The nurse, her name tag reading Claire, gave a small chuckle. "You don't need to apologize, you were unconscious every time I came to check on you."

"That's probably for the best," Murdock piped in, and Riley threw him a dirty look.

"I have to go, see you around, detective," said Claire.

"You workin' on those right hooks?" She asked Murdock when they were alone.

"Yeah, they're much better, thanks to you." He said, amused.

"Mmhm I don't know, it seemed like you didn't need my help, when I was leaving."

He rose his brows, she could feel the roasting coming on, it was second nature by now; "were you spying on me, detective? That's a little creepy isn't it? Since I can't see you and won't be able to tell where you are."

She rolled her eyes; "You're full of it."

"Am I?" He smirked.

"You just had to spin it that way, didn't you?" He laughed. "You know why I'm here? To speak with Wes?" She said, getting serious again.

"I do, and go ahead, I'm not stopping you. He's a little...tense, by the way," He added; "just to let you know, the prosecution is dropping the case against him."

"They are?" She said, it was a revelation to her too.

"Yeah, do you know why?"

"No." But she was going to find out why after this.

* * *

After a full day she met with Daredevil on her rooftop once more in the dead of night. Tommy wasn't home again when she got back from work so she didn't know if her voicemail had actually resonated with him. She didn't want to start freaking out yet, but it could reach that point. She'd left him three missed calls already.

"What do you have, detective?" Asked Daredevil, staying a distance from her.

"I talked to some people uptown; the Latin and black Gangs are running the same make and model of guns up in Harlem. It's trickling downtown to us."

His mouth turned in a displeased manner; "you know this and you're not doing something to stop it?"

The reality of it was hard to believe, for all the times they preached 'serve and protect' to the public. "There's a lot of crime is this city that I know about. But I'm just one cop in one district. I have to tell myself that someone else has it handled." She was no Iron Man or Captain America, if she could save one man, and make one difference in one person's life that was enough of a reward for her.

He seemed to understand that too and got off his high horse, this wasn't the last of the unappetizing news she had; "We can't go after Domenico."

His hands fell at his sides; "You're kidding me?"

"State attorney is using him to get to a bigger fish. I nab him I could unwind months of investigation. That's why the prosecution dropped the case, it was too much spotlight on Domenico." He was pacing to and fro, "at least Wes doesn't have to testify or else he'd have a bullseye on his head for being a narc. I'm sorry; it's above my pay grade."

He stopped and spun to her, he threw his arms at her; "How can you accept that? He's scot-free putting guns in the hands of 14 year olds, but he's untouchable?"

"It's what it is." She was disappointed too, but she had to make peace with it.

"You can't be happy with this," he contended.

"I'm not," she unzipped her jacket and handed a manila file to him; "Domenico didn't directly recruit Wes." Daredevil held it and she flipped open the file to show him what she uncovered; "Travis Rowland lives on the same street as Wes, he had a rap sheet as long as my arm. He worked under Domenico recruiting for him in his neighborhood and pulled Wes into this a year ago. It doesn't end there."

After how jittery Wes was, she had to figure out why he wasn't speaking to her with the ease he had a month before. She called Gale to help her gain access to security footage at the hospital. Riley flipped to the next image of a screenshot she took. "He got one of his guys to pay Wes a visit before either of us spoke to him;" she pointed to the guy on the image. "He wants Wes out of the hospital and doing other hits for him."

"Don't tell me Travis is being protected by cops too," said Daredevil.

"I don't know, but I don't care. I tried to talk to Travis but he didn't budge." He'd been impudent, talking as if he owned Wes as if he was a slave. "He tried to bribe me, and he thinks it worked, though I have an idea for what to use it for;" Riley took out a thick wad of cash from her jacket, showing it to him. Crooks tried to bribe her all the time, but this was the first time she'd taken one; "but I think, a visit from you would change his mind," she said, slowly.

The vigilante briefly considered her suggestion then nodded. "And Wes?" He asked, "What happens to him?"

"I can get him out of New York. He has family in Philadelphia. His grandfather. He won't be able to be here until tomorrow night, though," The kid had lost a lot of family in the gang violence living in Hell's Kitchen, or they were in jail. It wasn't worth it for him to stay here, it was time to make a new home and his granddad was his last hope.

"You have until then to _make_ Travis back off, preferably never to threaten teenagers again."

"You went to all that trouble for one kid?" Daredevil wondered, genuinely surprised by the lengths she had gone too.

"I would do it for anyone whom I thought deserved a second chance." She liked that she did something he had not unexpected.

"You have a bigger heart than I thought."

She felt her cheeks heat up, she'd never been able to take compliments seriously. "Yeah okay, well get to it then." She started for the roof door when he called out to her, she looked over her shoulder at him;

"Last question; you won't lift a finger to get Domenico White, but does that mean he's off limits to me?"

She stared at him confused. "I've never heard of Domenico White." The vigilante smiled darkly at her, and she quickly hid her own as she went back inside.

* * *

 ** _Thanks for your patience guys! This was more of a plot driven chapter, but I felt it was time to address those threads I left behind in previous chapters. I have something I'm really excited to post in the works. Stay tuned!_**


	14. Chapter 14

Wes Cleon eyes shifted from left to right; he turned his head looking down either side of the road, looking for a threat. She could see sweat beading on his nose. Riley kept a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder in case he chose to bolt. Daredevil had called her a few hours earlier to tell her he'd dealt with Travis Rowland accordingly, and by accordingly he meant he broke his jaw. Cleon didn't believe that anything had been done to save him from Travis, but Daredevil visited him before he was discharged form Metro General and told him he had no one to worry about. Wes and Travis basically traded hospital beds, Riley liked how that sounded.

"He'll be here soon," she assured the teen. He was thinner since being released from the hospital, and would probably need to take it easy until his wounds healed fully.

"What if I mess up?" He asked, looking up at her, gulping uneasily.

"Hey, I don't want to hear you talking like that. This old man, he cares about you, you do right by him, and yourself." She shook his shoulder a bit, "you have to believe in yourself." Riley bent her head and wagged a cautionary finger in his face, "and if you mess up, I'll drive over there and set you straight."

He smirked. That was when his grandfather's car pulled up to them. Wes's granddad got out with a huge grin on his face; "I missed you, my boy," he enveloped Wes in a tight hug. Riley had to smile seeing it; finally he could be safe, taken care of. Cleon waved her goodbye and got into the car.

"Detective, I don't know how to thank you, I thought I lost him for a good while back then. But you brought him back," said the old man.

"You're welcome," she took out the bribe that Travis has attempted to pay her off with and handed it him. "Here."

He gaped at the money in front of him, eyes big, and glanced back at her countenance, "I couldn't."

She took his hand and turned it over, placing the wad of money in his palm; "Take it, you'll need it " He smiled gratefully and accepted her parting gift.

* * *

They sat around in the conference room as Fitzgerald addressed them from the white board. "Before I forget, Knight; nice work on cuffing those two peddlers," he knocked on her desk. In her peripherals Riley could see Croftsky giving her the stink eye. She nodded her thanks to the older detective, feeling undeserving of the praise since it was Daredevil who had captured them for her.

"Lotts and Eddison ran their mouths like rivers," said Fitz. "They were both working under Vern, and his brother; Peter Woodrugh. Together they made one crew." He stuck up a picture of him on the whiteboard. "We're getting a LKA on Peter, we know how quickly drugs crews like these can turn to burglary, we need to-"

Leo's attention was caught by something in the lobby, he stood in his chair to stare. Two other detectives sitting behind Riley shared an interested look between them. Fitzgerald was still speaking to them, "-I called the unit and they confirm he's a suspect in multiple robberies in—"

She could hear shouted orders and loud grunting. They gaped like children in a museum. No one was listening to the briefing anymore. She started to become interested too. Fitz had his hands low on his hips; he shook his head at them disapprovingly; "Jesus Christ, you dolts have a worse attention span than goldfish."

Croftsky pointed through the window; "Sorry boss, it's Domenico White."

Riley also stood in her chair, and it even caught Fitzgerald's eye. White was a big player in the gun trafficking business, everyone knew it. Domenico was being manhandled by two patrolmen, his legs kicking up into the air. His nose and teeth were bloody.

"That masked man, you fucking cops, you think you fucking have me but you don't!" Yelled White, the patrolman on his right punched him in the gut to silence him, it reduced his struggling but it didn't do much to sate his rage. He glared daggers at the whole precinct watching him; "I want a lawyer!" He hissed, red spittle flying from his mouth.

 _Daredevil's handiwork._ Her fingers covered her secret smile and she sat back down in her chair.

* * *

She set up a meeting with Daredevil that evening after she clocked out of work. They didn't meet on the roof of her apartment, but definitely a rooftop.

"Good evening, D," she said to him when he landed like a panther onto the ground.

"Hey, I spoke to Susan. Daria's roommate, remember her?" He strolled over to join her. She was not as cautious of him like she used to be but he stayed several paces away for her benefit.

"Yeah, she was discharged from Metro General but fell through the cracks. You found her?"

He nodded. Riley raised both eyebrows high, impressed. _Daredevil would make a good detective._

"She was bumping between shelters, but I found her buying a one way-ticket out of town. She said Daria was helping her get into the escort service." That was disheartening news. Susan knew it would not be safe to return to her home to recuperate after her attack, but to do it in a packed homeless shelter? It was good thing that she was leaving the city.

Daredevil said; "I asked if she could identify whoever attacked her. But he was wearing a mask, although weight and height description doesn't match Gardner's."

"Could be his partner," Riley suggested. "Someone left me a note that night telling me where her flat was. I guess someone was looking out for her." It wasn't Daredevil, so just who was this other guardian angel in Hell's Kitchen? Could it be the military-like team that Alfie's task force was now after? The one the DA was intent on apprehending?

"That's another dead end on Sweeney," she pointed out, disgruntled.

"Something else could come up."

"Anyway, good job tonight, you got Domenico."

He grinned from ear to ear, "and here I thought you would bring champagne to celebrate."

 _The cheek on this one._ What kind of man was he when he didn't wear the mask? Was he just as overconfident? _Maybe he's actually some mousy accounting clerk beneath the mask._ "I don't really do celebrations, D. But yes, you singlehandedly took White down, and no one's ever going to know what you did. It's like taboo to even mention your name in the 15th now."

He gave a one-shouldered shrug; "I don't need to take credit for it. But hey, you gave me the intel, I didn't do it all by myself. Teamwork feels pretty good, right?"

She rolled her eyes, "don't push it." It was going to take a long while to even earn a friendly smirk from her.

He chuckled, but then the part of his face she could see twisted in discontent; "If the state attorney is involved does that mean they'll bury the case with White? They must have a deal set up with him and they'll release him."

 _He may not obey the law but he knows one or two things._ She crossed her arms to cover herself against wind picking up its speed. "Unfortunately, it's possible. But word is out, it might even hit the press, it'd be hard to hide gun trafficking." Riley didn't really have the right explanation to give him. "It's not satisfying but we did what we could."

Daredevil abruptly held his palm out to stop her talking, his head titled slightly down as he listened to something. She wondered about the scope of his super-hearing abilities. Could he hear chatter from a mile away or ten metres? Could he listen to people breathing? Was he like a bat and could pick up ultrasound waves? The possibilities were endless; she had not really considered them yet.

"D? What's going on?"

"There's a bomb threat on 17th and Price, dispatch has informed all units to converge," he told her. Riley sprung into action, leaning over the barrier to check what street they were on, the address was close by.

"That's two blocks from here," she said, and started to run for the exit.

"It's closer if we get there across the roofs," Daredevil shouted at her over a loud whistling of the night winds. "And faster," he hopped onto the barrier as if it were five feet from the ground and not fifty.

"Are you kidding me?" Riley couldn't believe he was even suggesting it to her.

He held his hands out, shrugging, "I know you can make the jumps, come on."

She knew he was right about it being faster, but safer? She threw a fleeting glanced at the roof exit and then at Daredevil. Riley went against her better judgement and followed him. She climbed onto the barrier, her feet tingling when she saw the drop, her tummy felt woozy. She retreated to get a running start. Daredevil was ahead of her, rapidly soaring through the air to the next roof. She sprinted forward, caught the air, her butterflies in her belly disappearing in that second of weightlessness.

She landed after him on the gravel, but lost her footing and fell forward. Her scream got stuck in her throat and came out a squeal. Daredevil was there to steady her by holding onto her arms. "See?" He said, with a breathless laugh. "You did it."

She shoved his chest away, "let's just keep going."

Once they reached the address, they ran down the fire escape. Riley radioed it in.

"10-21. Detective Knight, I am at 17th and Price, responding to the bomb threat."

She was running behind the vigilante but he stopped suddenly in his path and she collided into him. He was doing that peculiar concentrating thing he did earlier. "What are you _doing_?" She snapped. The urgency of the threat couldn't afford these prolonged silent stretches.

He glanced over his shoulder at her; "We can't go through the front door, they laid out a trap."

"Trap? What kind of—"

He cut her off with a finger; "there's one person in the building. She's one more floor down."

"You can sense if there's people in a building now?"

He latched onto the railing, swinging both legs over to the second flight of stairs. He broke in through the window and climbed in. She went after him. The home was dark and dusty; she took out her small flashlight and held out her gun.

"I am full of surprises, I know," his self-satisfied smile was faint and was gone just as quick before he returned to navigating them; "She's this way." He led them down the hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath their feet.

 _How does he know the person is a female?_

"I have the clear the place, first." She slowly eased the door of a room on her left, she moved her light to and fro, and walked in a step. "Police!"

As she took another step inside, Daredevil yanked her shoulder backwards into the hall. She wanted to tell him off when he explained himself;

"Stop. It's another trap." He held her wrist and directed her flashlight to a trip wire attached to the leg of the bed; she followed the spotlight to the wardrobe keyhole. "It's connected to a gun inside there," he said, opening one of the doors not associated with the wire. Inside was a rifle, it's trigger on a sensor that would've been activated when her leg snagged the wire. _He saves my life again._

"What the hell?"

"Just follow me," he said, and she didn't argue with him. They passed a window and she could hear the sirens and see blue and red lights dance across the walls.

"Back up is here."

He turned around to her, "tell them not to come in, they'll set off the trip wire on the front door," he warned. "Anyone who walks through is going to swallow some shotgun lead."

She quickly informed dispatch; "10-0, 10-0, do not enter through the front door, the building is rigged. I repeat, do not enter through the front door."

She got a response from the team outside when D started up another flight of stairs. "They strapped the bomb to her," he announced.

She shone the flashlight up the stairs. "Still don't understand how you know these things."

"I can smell the C4 from here."

She sniffed but couldn't smell anything out of the ordinary, except her nose was getting ticklish from the dust. "Didn't realize explosive composition were fragrant. I can't smell a thing."

"You can't, I can."

"Alright," she replied, brusquely. She decided to stop questioning him from then on. It would only get weirder and they were on a time constraint.

He opened the first door after the stairs, proving everything he said to be correct.

Indeed, there was a woman, and she was strapped to a chair with rope. A cramped trip wire perimeter of two feet was set up around her like a cage; the wires wound around poles with gaps a foot wide in-between. She looked to be in her thirties, in work clothes, matted blonde hair. He face was tear streaked and she was distraught.

"Oh help me," she whimpered, seeing Riley before Daredevil as he let her enter first.

She lowered her gun and approached with caution; the vigilante wasn't stopping her so it was just the part of the room the woman occupied that was dangerous. "Miss, I'm the police; I need you to stay still." She pressed on her radio as she walked around the lady. Daredevil went in and the woman gasped when she saw him but didn't become more panicked than she already was, thankfully.

"Female, tied to a chair; the explosive device is on her, hooked to approximately 20g of C4. Bomb unit, do you copy?"

" _10-4, Knight. This is Fitz. How the hell did you get in there?"_

Perfect. Her boss was outside too. She hoped her answer didn't raise any alarm bells. She was supposed to be off duty tonight; "Uh, the roof."

 _"Okay then. Hang in there, bomb unit is less than a minute out."_

"What's your name, miss?" Riley asked the woman.

"Beth. Beth Richards," she sniffed, her eyes red. "Please, please, get this off me. Please." Her shoulders heaved helplessly, she looked to Daredevil too.

Fitz voice came through the radio; " _Bomb_ _unit is here I'm passing you over to Howell."_

" _Knight, do you see the bomb?"_

"Affirmative. There's a perimeter around her set up with trip wires any one of these could set the bomb off immediately."

"I don't want to die, please," cried Beth.

 _"Look for a timer."_

Daredevil carefully circled Beth. "Detective," the vigilante gestured her over to show her what he found. Riley gulped when she saw the timer attached to Beth's back. _Two minutes._ Her heart somersaulted.

"Found it, we have two minutes."

Beth was wriggling in her seat, desperate to be free. _How many times do I have to tell her?_ "Miss, I need you to please, stay still and remain calm, it's going to okay, we will get you out of that."

" _Can you see a trigger?_

"Ask them if there was a phone call," D suggested. He seemed to know what he was talking about. He'd been leaning in to inspect the bomb as she spoke over the radio. He'd been right so far. She took his word for it.

"Did she make a 911 call?"

" _Affirmative."_

 _One minute, fifty seconds._

Beth's eye's became wild as she realized what had happened; "T-They made me call, they-they made me—"

"That was the trigger," she told Howell.

Beth cried out hysterically, hearing that she had put herself in this situation inadvertently; "No, oh God please, I don't—"

In her head Riley was swearing profusely but she had to remain unruffled by what was happening before her or risk frightening Beth even more. " _If it's already triggered we can disable it. Follow my instructions."_ Riley had to ignore her and remained focused on communicating with Howell or a lot of people were going to die. Including the three of them in that room.

"The timer is strapped to her back." Riley's heart was pounding fast. Her forearm was small enough to reach through the perimeter. She swallowed her fear; "Miss, I can get to the device, but I need you to stay calm, breathe in and out. I'm going to reach in and get turn it off."

"No," Beth rasped, she squirmed even more. "No, you'll touch the wire and set it off, no!" Riley's gaze was locked on the digital numbers on the timer. Her heart pounded faster until she could feel it against her ribcage. She could feel the nervous sweat on her brow.

 _One minute, twenty seconds._

"M'am please, I need to get to the timer," she said firmly through clenched teeth, but the dread was settling in causing a slight pitch increase in her tone.

"NO!" She bawled. Riley gulped, she didn't want to be afraid but this was going south pretty fast. She looked weakly from Beth to Daredevil, _why couldn't she just cooperate?_

Daredevil sensed her defeat and knelt as close to the perimeter as possible. "Hey, hey, you're catholic?"

For a blessed moment Beth froze, paused her hysteria and stared at the vigilante, thrown by his question. "Y-yeah."

"Do you know the serenity prayer?" He asked, and not unkindly. He was being sincere. Daredevil had his hands resting on his knees as if he was about to meditate in a tranquil forest and not in an abandoned apartment with a bomb less than a minute from exploding.

Beth nodded. "Close your eyes, concentrate, and say it to yourself, with all your heart," he instructed her. She followed, squeezing them shut. They began reciting the prayer together, in peaceful harmony as if he had done it hundreds of times before. His voice was composed, steady, a whisker above a whisper. She was much louder than him, clearly religious as she said each word with unbroken conviction. Riley only knew bits of it from AA meetings she attended once upon a time.

With her distracted, Riley was able to reach in slowly and open the tiny box beside the timer containing the wires. Beth let out a shaky breath and Riley thought they were done for but Daredevil kept encouraging her, "keep going Beth," he spoke with more volume to recite with her; "'Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will.'"

 _Forty seconds._ Riley's arm was sore and it felt as if she had been working on the bomb for ten years. But she unplugged the last wire and flicked the off switch. The timer froze at thirty seconds.

"It's disabled," she informed Howell.

 _"Excellent work, detective."_

She let out a breath she did not know she had been holding and leaned back against the wall needing her own moment of repose. Her stare was fixed on the frozen timer and she felt a bit dizzy. She rested her hand over her chest feeling the thud thud motion of it. _Still alive, I'm still alive._ She had an affinity for near death experiences these days.

Beth let out a small cry of relief. Riley took out her knife and cut through the wires and remove the zip ties off of her. Daredevil stood and let Riley through to Beth, who was crying again.

She helped her to her feet, "you did good, you're okay." Beth latched herself onto her, sobbing into her hair. She had never been competent at consoling distressed people, she was glad Daredevil had been there to comfort Beth. He'd been warm and compassionate. Traits she had never in a million years expected from him. Nothing at all like the Man in the Mask.

"You're okay, we're okay."

Her gaze shifted to Daredevil, but he was already gone.

* * *

Alfonso invited Tommy and herself over for dinner at his home. After several of her failed dinners, Riley was grateful to not have to cook that night. A dinner at the Valentine's was a casual family affair. As usual, nothing was ever completely ready when they arrived so they had to help, and Riley liked it that way. She and Tommy did not have many family meals growing up. She learnt to appreciate the steps that went into putting one together.

Alfie answered the door; "hey, come on in guys," he gave both the Knights' a one-handed hug. He went back into the kitchen to check on the roast. Maggie was pouring water into glasses on the dinner table chatting to Tommy. Her brother's attention was pulled by an enthusiastic Alyssa telling him about her new role in the school play.

Meanwhile, Riley was in the kitchen. She loved seeing the food being made and what plates they used to serve it, probably the inner homebody in her surfacing. She served out mashed potatoes into a deep bowl while talking to Alfie. She could've shared with him that the DA wanted her to take over his task force but she knew he would be salty about it no matter what he said to her face. It was better he didn't know.

"Look at you, getting drugs off the streets, disabling bomb threats."

"You were there?" She didn't recall seeing him the other night.

"I'd just arrived from Florida, caught the action late."

"I heard the case is being handed over to the feds, it's their forte," she said, scooping out another heaping of potatoes from pot to the bowl. "On a more positive note, I also heard Alyssa's in the school play, she's the female lead."

"Yeah, a week ago she wanted to be a cop, now she wants to be an actress," he said, doing jazz hands as he took out plates from the cabinet.

She snorted; "It's definitely a more glamorous life."

"How's Tommy doing?"

She looked out into the dining room. Tommy was shaking one of Alyssa's Barbie dolls in her face, laughing and she was play-hitting him. Riley recalled when her brother was Alyssa's age and she made fun of his toys too. She sighed; "I found weed in his room," she said. "And he sneaks out at night."

"Those NA meetings take time to stick, you know that. As long as you're not stalking him." She kept her guilty eyes on the food in front of her, avoiding his look.

"Oh c'mon Riles, seriously? You're tailing him? You don't trust him?"

"He's the definition of a flight risk, that doesn't look good to a judge."

"Where does he go?"

The routes were always different, he walked aimlessly it seemed, as he pontificated and listened to music. "He goes for long walks, smokes a cigarette. It got boring eventually so I stopped. I need to just let him be, he said he listened to my advice and he just wants to think. Whatever that could mean. Honestly, this dinner couldn't have come at a better time, we need other people to talk too."

After a second of not saying a word. Alfonso opened and closed his mouth the way he did when he was going to say something uncomfortable.

"You got something on your mind?" She asked.

As easily from the dad who dressed up as Kristoff from Frozen he became that austere detective. "I was with the lady from that bomb threat, calming her down while the medics tended to her."

"Oh yeah, that was a close one, um. Yeah it was hard for me to ask her to stay calm in the moment. She was just some rando the terrorist picked off the street to use as bait," said Riley.

"She didn't say much, but she did say that Daredevil was there too. In that apartment. Left out that tiny detail, huh?"

She shrugged, putting the spatula down in the pot. "So what? He helped me."

"You guy's buddies now?" He was being passive aggressive, she didn't like it.

She licked her lips; "What are you implying, man? I'm at your house, with your family, in this really the time to be discussing this? Whatever this is?"

He crossed his arms, leaned against the counter. "First I miss my chance to get clean shot at him because of your two left feet— now he's dismantling bombs with you?"

Peeking into the dining room, their family was still preoccupied; Tommy playing with Alyssa and Maggie setting the table.

"I've known you for, what? Ten years, at least." Riley pressed two fingers to her temple; "Come on. Think Alfie. He's listening in on our radio chatter. That's' why he's turning up to crimes before us or with us. He's obviously bought the tech to do it, and that doesn't come cheap, I might add."

She picked the bowl of potatoes off the counter. Her face was scowling now but she intended to enter the dining room with a big smile. "Here's an idea; you should go harass the clerks at RadioShack and stop questioning me." Being back at work was rough; she needed her best friend to just be on her side. "I'm glad your mum's doing better. I've always appreciated how kind she was to me. But I don't want to hear accusations. I'm just keeping my head down and working hard with Fitzgerald. I already have to deal with Leo & Croftsky whispering behind my back like 16 years olds. I just want to be done with the vigilante business, and my brother's trial."

Suddenly he forgot everything he said; "Wait, wait, did you say Leo & Croftky are giving you a hard time?"

She smiled, but rolled her eyes at his sudden protectiveness, as if they were bullies in the schoolyard. "Nothing I can't handle."

He exhaled deeply; "I'm sorry, yeah? The DA's been breathing down my neck on this," he said, wanting to bury whatever he had said less than a minute ago, in the past. "I just wish I could be done with it too. I don't agree with what he does. But I've...accepted that Daredevil didn't have a part in Amy's death, it was Fisk. All Fisk. This other guy they got us after, he's miles worst."

She was surprised to hear his change of heart. It was starting to look like they could finally move forward from Amy's death.

"Things were rocky between us before I went to see my mum," he said. "But I got to think while I was away and I know you're right. I hate arguing, Riles. You're family to me, that's all that matters."

She knew it wasn't easy to admit. "I get it. And you are family to me too."

Just like that things were starting to get back to normal between them, he asked her about Tommy's trial; "How's the prep for that going anyway? Nelson & Murdock as infuriating as they always are?"

"Actually, they aren't too bad," she said sheepishly.

"What?" He said, appalled.

She flushed; it was embarrassing enough as it was to be represented by them. But she couldn't lie to him about it. "They aren't too bad. They're decent guys. Nelson and I have had some quality banter, he buzzes with energy and enthusiasm, it's refreshing sometimes."

Even in the direst cases Nelson was a ball of positive energy, she forgot what it was like to see someone genuinely enjoying their job. "He seems to be the glue of that place and he doesn't even know it. Especially when Murdock was out sick for a month."

"A month? What did he have?"

"He got into a car accident, I think. He's the one I can't really figure out." Murdock was charming, a trait she refrained from mentioning to Alfonso to save herself from the teasing. Even so, Murdock could get wound up over things in a very intense manner and could become quiet and stoic. That part of him suited the man she met in Fogwell's Gym. Not the blind lawyer in the office.

"He's not quiet I'd say. He's reserved—"

"Okay, so which one do you have a crush on?" Alfie's loud laugh interrupted her musings. His dumb, irritating comment made her want to upend the bowl of mashed potatoes on his head.

"Oh no, you did not just go there. Just because I get along with them doesn't mean I actually like one of them!"

He only laughed harder.

"Yeah, yeah, I made friends with lawyers; make fun of me all you want, let's go eat, please."

As they sat around the dinner table, passing bowls of food, and listening to Alyssa speak over all their voices. The food was good, they were laughing and smiling. As she ate, she thought about the conversation she just had with Alfie. Yes, they were better friends now than they were before. Yet it had become too easy to lie to him, and manipulate his words.

 _I almost died a few months ago. But do I like the person who came back?_

* * *

 _Matt_

His cane hit a pew, _tap tap_. The setting sun hit his bare neck from the open church door. He sat down slowly, his leg feeling sore again. It faded every week though. Sometimes his leg barely felt as if it belonged to him, stitched clumsily to his torso, a foreign limb that slowed him down.

He had to push through the lance of pain every night he put on his red suit. That vigilante had to be stronger, faster, more resilient than Matt Murdock the lawyer. _Get up kid, there's no such thing as pain, no such thing as weakness_ Stick would have barked at him. But when he was alone in the church or his apartment, he only had his thoughts stewing in his head, there were no distractions. It took more energy to pretend the pain wasn't there.

During the weeks he had been quarantined to his apartment to recover, Foggy walked in and out twice a day, barely saying two sentences to him, but begrudgingly visiting him to ensure he didn't sneak out and to bring him food. Claire had visited too, to track the wound's healing and berate him for not visiting hospital more often. Sometimes their short conversations were normal, like nothing had changed, but nevertheless their chats had always left him in a melancholy mood.

He had to ignore the cries of help, the hidden darkness of the city that only he could hear. If he focused on internal sounds, he heard the tearing of a stitch like a ruler snapping in half when he moved his injured leg too much. He had to force himself to stay put.

But his need to be out there, in the night, overrode his own pain. He didn't last.

He fought with Foggy a week before he came back to the office because he'd refused to stay in bed. Things haven't been the same ever since. The work was the same, but the relationship felt strained. Karen tried harder than both of them combined and he didn't think they'd even have a Nelson & Murdock if she wasn't there to hold them together.

He asked Father Lathom if anyone could ever forgive him for what he did, for the promises he broke, to his best friend, to his father. The pastor told him only God could forgive him, and that was what he prayed for, always.

On that note an unexpected worshipper walked into the church.

So intent on getting into an empty pew, Detective Knight did not notice him as she strode down the aisle. The walk was deliberate, evidence this was not the first time she'd been to this church. She got seated. There was a moment of hesitation that passed. Knight closed her eyes, and folded her hands together in prayer. Matt clued out her private whispers for next few minutes, and things were quiet.

"… _I have lied, and I have harmed…I cannot change what I have done. I only ask for forgiveness for my sins. Amen."_ He caught the tail end of her prayer. Whatever she had unburdened to God, was stirring emotions inside her chest, and tightened her throat. He was sitting many rows behind her but as she stood to leave she saw him. A barest hint of a smile touched her lips as she walked down to his pew.

"Murdock, it's Detective Knight," she said, "my, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." She made a hissing noise regretting her choice of words; "ooh, I don't know if that was offensive or not."

"Since we are in a holy place, I forgive you."

"Starting with a clean slate then," she slid into the pew and sat next to him. "Has this always been your church?"

"Yeah, are you Catholic?"

"Yes. And you sound surprised."

"I had no idea you came here."

"I never really practiced when I was a kid," she crossed her legs and leaned into the seat looking ahead at the altar. "I knew about this place from Amy, she said she liked to talk to Father Lathom when she had a lot to unload."

"He's good person to confide in," Matt himself had just spoken to the pastor before sitting down to pray on his own. "You've mentioned her once, was she your partner?"

"She was my best friend," there was still a break in her voice, but much less prominent.

"I don't know what I'd do without Foggy." His best friend was honestly the only family he had.

"Probably be a hundred times less entertaining."

He gaped at her in mock offence, "wow, will you ever just give me a break?"

She laughed softly. "I'm saying you have good choice in business partners and best friends; that's a compliment." She nudged him with her elbow, "so where did Nelson & Murdock meet? Columbia?"

"Yup, roommates."

"I see, surviving the Fisk scandal, and near bankruptcy. The awkwardness of bringing girls back to your shared room and smelly laundry. I'd say that's a testament of your bond."

"And you? Police academy?"

"Before that. My brother was in a youth home run by nuns a few years before he hit the legal age," Knight told him. "Amy and Alfie's dad was a cop; the family was nice to me. I was out of the system by then, Officer Valentin looked out for me."

"Where were you, if you weren't in the youth home with him?"

"Trying to make a living outside, so by the time he got out, he'd have a real home to come back too." There was a pause as she fiddled with the keys in her pocket, a habit she had when she was deep in thought.

"You're a good sister," said Matt, angling himself towards her slightly.

The jangling of the keys stopped. "Yeah, everyone says that."

"You don't think that?"

"No. I think I failed him." She was nonchalant about it, but he could tell it was an act.

He rested his hand in the space between them on the seat. He strongly disagreed with her and he wanted her to know that. He knew her well enough to know that she was talking pure bullshit. "Hey, you didn't fail him. Some things are out of your control. I can tell how much he relies on your support and guidance. He needs you."

"I didn't lead by example; I lost myself so many times. He's making my mistakes, following my footsteps, but worse."

Knight only knew Matt Murdock and Daredevil as separate entities. But in both his alter egos he's seen her beyond Riley Knight the Detective. She was a sister, a best friend, and a daughter. How could anyone infuriating and stubborn, be so genuine and kindhearted at the same time? She wilfully lied, forked out money and resources to get her brother back on his feet. She went out of her way to help Wes Cleon relocated his entire life; a complete stranger she saved on a random patrol. _Who does that?_

"You were once in rabbit hole, maybe you dug yourself into it, maybe you didn't, it doesn't matter. You saw hope, and light at the top of it, and you climbed out. You're still fighting, aren't you? For what you believe in, for the people you love." He thought of Foggy and Karen. "That struggle, as exhausting and soul sucking as it is, is always going to be worth it when you reach the top. You don't give up."

Knight stared at him for a long moment. Her lips broke into a lopsided grin. "You're so cheesy."

He pulled a straight face and shook his head. It was the reaction she desired as she laughed.

"I think you should be saying; 'thanks for the motivational speech, Murdock. Then I say, 'You're welcome, Knight.'"

They fell into a comfortable silence. She was studying his glasses and his mouth. He wracked his mind to figure out if he'd said anything out of the ordinary of their usual rapport.

"You still there?" Asked Matt.

"For a second you reminded me of someone..." she shrugged it off, "never mind, I should go, thank you for the motivational speech."

"You're welcome, top-notch persuasion skills are in the job description as a lawyer, anyway."

"Oh yeah? Does that come under being a pain in the ass?"

She laughed for a good, long, hearty minute at that one. An old lady a few pews in front of them turned around and shushed Knight.

"Sorry," she whispered. Knight looked back at him and they both snorted, suppressing their laughter.

"Did I at least lift your spirits?"

"Oh yes you did," Knight squeezed his arm before she got up, "Goodnight."

Foggy had always been the one who was better at making people laugh. It was refreshing to think he could make someone a little happier just by being Matt Murdock. No fists, or red suit, or billy clubs required.

* * *

 **Hope you guys liked the chapter! I really wanted to build on DD and Knight's working relationship and also mend Riley's personal ones. More exciting chapters on their way! Please review and follow!**


	15. Chapter 15

_Hey guys! Thank you again for your patience. I have the next half of this little arc in editing so expect it within the next few days! Please leave a review! Enjoy xx_

* * *

It was afternoon, it was one of those slow days at work that felt like a week had passed already and not a few hours. On her way from the bathroom she passed the conference room. She heard Fitz, Humphrey and a familiar visiting cop from another precinct having a heated discussion inside. Humphrey mentioned the last name Reeding. She sat at her desk and put the question out to her colleagues; "Guys, why does the name Reeding sound so familiar?"

"Rumor is he takes protection money from street crews," said Leo who was stirring an unhealthy number of sugar cubes into his coffee. "Let's the thugs go, or lessens their charges. Puts the dirty money he gets into a trust fund for his kids' college tuition."

"No way."

"Yeah," he tossed the stirrer into the trash can next to his desk. "I've no idea why internal affairs hasn't tried to bust his ass before."

Croftsky, who a second ago had been focused on his phone screen, couldn't help himself and had butt in with his own magical opinion on the matter; "But then again, they let you lead this task force not too long ago."

Right on time, Alfie walked in with her lunch order, he glared at Croftsky; "You accusing my friend of being a dirty cop?"

Croftsky grimaced back at her best friend; "Just putting the thought out there, Alfonso."

"Don't think too hard Croftsky, you might break your face."

Leo snorted into his coffee mug and Riley stifled a laugh just as Detective Fitzgerald entered the room.

"Knight, a word," he waved her to join him in the conference room with a stern look on his face. Leo and Malek made synchronized, dire "oooh," noises. She threw them the middle finger as she got up and thanked Alfie for getting her lunch.

"Captain," she said by way of greeting Humphrey when the door was closed behind them.

"Detective, you know Sergeant Kelly, he runs the narcotics unit in the 9th Precinct," said Humphrey introducing them.

"Yeah I do, welcome to the 15th Sarge," she said, shaking Kelly's hand. She met him once before when their precincts worked together on a case. She'd just been a patrol officer back then. Kelly was a loud, grim looking guy, always looked like someone had pissed in his cereal.

"We'll get straight to it, one of Kelly's guys undercover has gone missing," said Humphrey.

"Sam Reeding, he's been undercover for nine months," Kelly added. "Always checks in with me at the same time every night, but he hasn't for the past four days. We think he's been compromised and maybe in danger."

"What if his bosses took him on a bender? It happens," she suggested, shrugging.

"He always checks back in with me, without fail," insisted Kelly, standing firmly to his opinion; "something happened to him."

"We're gonna need you to go undercover." Humphrey said, "We need to find out what happened to him."

"Why me? It'll suit one of the boys better." It was hard enough being a female cop, but simply put, there was no such thing as female drug traffickers. Obvious ones, anyway.

"You possibly know one of the crew members." Fitzgerald handed her a file and she opened it. "Ring any bells?"

Indeed it did. She recognized Parker, dirty blonde hair and beard hadn't changed one bit, the tattoo of the day his mother died still on the right side of his nape. Even without grooming his hair or beard, he knew how to make himself look put together with his clothes. He looked like the kind of guy mother's would tell their daughters to date, not too handsome to be arrogant, but an innocent face that let them know he'd do right by their little girls.

Of course, without knowing he'd punctured someone's lung with an iron bar the night before.

She'd learnt that people were so much more than what they wore on the surface. After that undercover operation, he thought she had dropped her whole world and disappeared to Canada. "Yeah I know him."

"We need you to reestablish contact," said Fitz.

"Sending her in is risque," said Kelly, starting to pace worrisomely. "They'd make her as a cop in a second."

"I agree, female drug trafficker is an incredibly niche undercover role to take," replied Fitz. "But Knight has done it before, and she set it up perfectly." He pointed at her; "and it was those six months you spent in that role that changed the entire course of your career."

That was accurate. She'd been promoted after that stint despite how long it took.

Kelly took a closer look at her and threw his gaze across the room to her superiors, strongly opposing it; "I don't know about this anymore, I don't want to risk it," he said, uneasy. "It'll disrupt the entire chain of suppliers if this goes down the drain, and worse— we may compromise other undercover operatives too. This was better kept internally."

"Sergeant Kelly, it was your incentive to reach out to Fitzgerald and myself," said the Captain, rather calmly. "You knew we could do something to help find Reeding and we can. Whatever means are necessary we can bring him back. I have faith in this team, and so should you."

"I'll find Reeding," Riley assured him. That inherent desire to prove someone else that she could do something already driving her.

They had been talking back and forth for nearly an hour. It seemed there was no way Kelly could change his mind without sounding like a flake. Sometimes it was all about maintaining appearance and saving face in this world. After they gave her a more in depth briefing, and Fitz informed the rest of the team what was going down she was dismissed early to get ready.

Riley had been undercover before, but it'd been a while since her last operation. The last one had almost consumed her whole. It also meant she may not be present for Tommy's trial. She stopped Fitz outside the locker room to address the concern she had.

"Fitz. My brother's trial, I don't know how long I'll be gone for, he needs me there—"

"You're going to ask if me if you can get a judge to sanction a date change," he finished for her, predicting her words correctly. "It's a long shot. You can try but I don't think it's possible."

Her shoulders fell, she nodded, understanding that it was going to have to be like this. Fitz decided to give some sage advice to her;

"Honestly Knight, I have a kid around your brother's age, you can't hold his hand forever. Your brother can do it without you," said the older detective, giving her a quick tap on the arm before walking past her.

...

Without needing to call the attorneys, she caught Murdock & Nelson in the station lobby.

"Hey."

"What's up Knight?" Nelson asked her, smiling brightly. _He's always in a good mood, isn't he?_

She didn't feel like he did. Her stomach felt like there was a handful of acorns resting inside it. She hadn't managed to eat her lunch because of the nerves, thus she was starving, but she didn't think she'd be able to swallow anything without getting nauseous. "You guys are going to have to do my brother's trial without me."

"What's going on?" Murdock asked, much more gravely than his partner, as if he could tell she wasn't at ease with something.

She was thrown for a moment but nevertheless explained what happened; "I'm going undercover."

Nelson's eye went wide, his countenance lit up like an excited ten year old in a comic book store; "The way you said it…was possibly one of the coolest things you have ever done." That momentarily put a small smile on her, but it wasn't as amazing as he thought it was.

"Uh, congrats?" Said Murdock, unsure if she was relaying good or bad news at the moment.

"How long will you be gone for?" Nelson asked.

She shrugged; "could be a day, week, three months, who knows. I have to explain all of this to Tommy, he's going to be so pissed." She had been breaking her back on this case for over a month and it turned out she may have to abandon it all together. But Fitzgerald was right, she couldn't hold his hand forever.

"No, no this is work, Tommy will be fine, we got it," said Nelson. "We won't get ahead of ourselves yet, we don't know how long you'll be gone for anyway."

"Thanks for understanding guys." As they both were about to leave, Murdock reached out and managed to clasp her elbow. The coordination surprised her. For a crazed second she forgot he was blind.

Beneath the rim of his glasses, his brows were slightly furrowed, expression was dark and sombre. "Knight, stay safe." Murdock said, out of character. "I mean it."

"Thanks?" She replied, thrown off. Nelson patted his best friend on the shoulder telling him they were going to be late for a client meeting. She didn't understand why he concerned himself so deeply with her police work, he made it clear he didn't want to be a part of any of it, he couldn't possibly know the details of her work anyway.

She shook her head, bemused. It was just going to be another thing she didn't understand about Murdock.

* * *

 _Matt_

Matt and Foggy were quietly working in the conference room, two steaming mugs of coffee for both of them, the rich roasted scent filling their workspace. It was a good and productive start to the day, and Matt was getting a lot more work done now that he felt at peace with the situation with the Detective. Her going undercover wasn't going to change things between them. He admitted he had been a bit too forward at the precinct just now, but he knew it took a lot of bravery to put on a mask and pretend to be someone else. And she wasn't even going to wear one.

And then, Foggy decided to make it a problem;

"Getting a little emotionally invested aren't we?" Said his best friend, not looking up from the keyboard.

Matt put down his mug and scowled at him, annoyed as if Foggy had been a passerby rudely bumping into him on the pavement; "It's not like that."

Foggy's shoulders slumped, with the tiredness of a mother who had nagged too much to no avail or change brought around in their child. "Oh come on man, I got second hand embarrassment when you told her to 'stay safe'. What possessed you?"

"She's an honest cop who's good at her job," said Matt defensively, feeling that angst-imbued uptick in his heart rate whenever he argued with Foggy. "She may not make it out of those kinds of missions alive, that's the reality of it." The conversation was on shaky ground and could easily morph into a shouting match, but he couldn't stop himself from arguing. "Daredevil and Detective Knight have been working well so far, if she gets seriously hurt undercover it could—"

"Oh right, then you won't have an inside person in the precinct," Foggy concluded, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, "and here I thought you were actually capable of caring about someone else besides yourself."

Now, his friend was pushing it; "That's not fair—"

"'Cause she's actually a decent person," Foggy talked over him.

"Yeah I know that!" He snapped back. It rubbed him the wrong way to hear Foggy suggest that he didn't even care about Knight's well being.

The main door to the office opened and closed, indicating that Karen was back from her break. Both of them controlled their frustration at one another like swallowing a ball of flame, and cooled down promptly.

"Just—please don't go around trying to reach for her hand and pouring out gut wrenching final goodbyes," Foggy muttered, glancing over his shoulder to see whether Karen might walk into the conference room at any minute. "It's weird, alright?"

Matt set his papers down, irritated. Despite how petty he was being he didn't immediately respond to him.

" _Okay?"_ Foggy repeated with a bit more volume, to get a solid verbal confirmation out of him.

"Yeah, okay," he gruffly replied.

"Good. Glad that's out of the way."

The door swung open and Karen popped her head in. "You guys have lunch already?"

"Yeah we did," Matt, responded with a quickly formed smile, as breezy as a light summer wind, "you tried that new burrito place five blocks down?"

"Oh yeah, it was so good." She sat down with them, a forced normal changing the air of the strained conversation only moments ago.

* * *

 _Riley_

Before getting to Parker they had to go through another criminal to make him set the scene for the meet. Fitzgerald style was rough around the edges, but Riley respected that. And when they asked the patrol officers to bring in Maxxie, neither Leo nor herself were going to go easy on him to get what they wanted.

Leo shoved Maxxie into the seat in the interrogation room; "I didn't do nothing, asshole, why you gotta bring me here?" Maxxie was a skinny guy with longish greasy black hair. He thought highly himself for a long while, as though he was the king of the world...until the task force humbled him a year ago when he was caught.

Riley walked around from the doubled sided window and opened the door to the room; "Maxxie," she greeted with an overly bright, preppy smile. "How's it going these days?"

"Hey I paid my dues why the hell am I here?!"

"C'mon man, you know how this works by now," she replied, coolly.

"We found this underneath the couch in the living room of your girlfriends house," Leo dangled the baggie of coke in Maxxie's face and plopped it onto the table.

"That bitch is not my girlfriend," he spat, glaring at them both, "that ain't even my house, and she could've gotten that from anyone."

"Except you're that bitch's boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend-whatever," Riley sat down on the edge of the table, crossing her arms. She enjoyed this, getting into their heads. "I'll charge you for possession and intent to distribute, and you can call your lawyer. Or you can throw one of those house parties that you're famous for."

Understanding struck him like a slap to the face. "That's why you dragged my ass out of my home?"

"Thought that wasn't your house," she arched a brow, and he kept his mouth tightly shut until she couldn't see his lips.

"Yeah we could've called but we wanted to deal face to face," Leo remarked offhandedly. "Now will you shut the hell up and listen?"

 _Time to make a deal._ Riley set down a picture of Parker on the table. "Parker; I'm looking for him, rumour has it that he frequents your parties. I need to get to him. Throw the party and I'll drop the possession charges, no hassle for either of us."

Maxxie's knee was shaking beneath the table, and he was chewing his lip. It was his call sign that he was going to fold any second now, and she was right. "Alright, alright. Give me 24 hours. I'll get you your boy."

 _As if we have that much time to spare._ Riley smiled with sickening sweetness, "you have 7."

"What?!"

* * *

Riley got ready at home, borrowing an outfit from Gale to wear to the party. That request had been met with a lot of laughs and; 'are you for real?', 'but you never come out with us,' 'you should keep it!' She strongly declined the last outburst. Riley couldn't remember the last time she had attended one of these where she wasn't in a uniform breaking up the fun.

She turned the lipstick tube up, _it's just makeup Riles,_ she told herself, feeling an ingénue at the art every occasion she had to wear it, which was rare besides. She had a minimal amount on already but it felt like she had cake smeared over her face. She was positive she had used the wrong brush and the wrong shiny dust on the wrong part of her cheekbones. It was more straightforward to wire an electrical circuit than figure makeup out. _Whatever, it'll be dark and everyone is too drunk to notice a thing._

Riley ran her hand over her tummy; she wore a ridiculously fitted dress Gale had lent her. An earthy shade of green that was supposed to 'compliment the warm undertones in your skin' (Gales words not hers). She felt and looked like a completely different person. _Maybe this is what effort looks like._ She held up her gun and looked down at her legs, annoyed by the short length of the dress. _Where the hell am I supposed to hide this?_

There was a knock on her bedroom window, Daredevil where there, he gave her a short wave. She felt like Maria from West Side Story, except a much more twisted version of the musical. She opened the window, but made him stay standing on the fire escape.

"Hey."

"Undercover huh?" Said the vigilante. "It's your turn to wear a costume," he leaned on the railing, a lopsided grin on his lips; "you look really nice, detective."

"Shut the fuck up," she snapped, knowing very well that he was making fun of her.

"You'll need a garter."

"A what?"

He pointed at the gun and then at her quite exposed thigh; "For the gun."

"Oh yeah, you're right, ugh, my head's been fuzzy." She knew Malek, her female colleague on the squad would have one back at the station. "Anyway, I think we're going to have to put the brakes on this for the time being," she said, referring to their partnership.

"Are you breaking up with me?" He asked. She rolled her eyes considering shoving him off the fire escape. She didn't even hate him for a being a vigilante anymore— he was just so annoying, how did anyone put up with him when he wasn't wearing the mask? Does he even have friends with that attitude?

"Who's the target?" He wanted to know. She took out the file from her briefcase and handed it to him, "Parker, helped him import coke into the city. We were working for some pretty exclusive people, classy even, I might say so myself. He thinks I disappeared five years ago to Canada."

"Wow, that's cold," Daredevil remarked, opening the file to look at it. She knew it was; she was certain Parker had been a tiny bit in love with her the whole time she was working him. Being a woman, even in the industry of drug trafficking meant she had to work thrice as hard for the same recognition Parker got.

That meant she had to fight harder, think faster, and be more cutthroat than any of her counterparts. At the time, being a former addict, and also having dealt on a smaller scale, she'd seen two sides of the same coin, which made volunteering for the mission a no brainer. She'd been used to being defined as that kind of person you didn't associate yourself with, you didn't bring home to your parents, the person you avoided on the streets.

But unlocking that darker side of her to go undercover had nearly driven her insane. She wasn't sure how it was going to go around this time.

"Anything I can do to help?" Daredevil asked, disturbing her from her swirling thoughts after she'd been silent for a few moments.

"Doesn't really have anything to do with Sweeney or taking down a major player. It's a rescue mission."

"All the same, I could track anyone you want for you."

"How? Are you bloodhound now?"

He seemed to take that comment to heart, his jaw tightening, "no—"

"I've done this many times before, don't worry. My squad has a plan and we're going to follow it step by step." Her work phone started to ring; she picked it up and checked it, already knowing it was Fitzgerald from the precinct.

"I really have to go now," she glanced at the fire escape but he had already disappeared.

She huffed an exasperated breath, dumping her phone into a small purse; "thanks, anyway."

* * *

Riley didn't know what the kids were listening to these days. Sometimes it sounded like white noise blasting at full volume, the kind that made it feel as though your ears were bleeding. They were in some fancy brownstone she would never be able to afford that Maxxie had acquired from a wealthy customer to throw the last minute party. The house was sweltering, with bodies rubbing against one another, the heat made her skin itch. There were youngsters grinding, dancing, and slinking off to dark corners to enjoy Maxxie's merchandise.

 _God, I want to arrest all of them._

Leo was at one end of the room keeping an eye out for her while she stayed at the bar to see if she could spot Parker when he entered the house. Maxxie was thoroughly enjoying his time with two girls on either arm. He cleaned up in a light grey suit and his hair tied back neatly. He had a drink in his hand but she knew he wasn't drunk. Two undercover cops at his house party, and two vans of officers, less than a block away? He had to be sober to deal with damage control in case something went wrong. For all their sakes, she hoped he wouldn't have too.

Maxxie made eye contact with her and tapped the side of his nose, eye's shifting to his left. She followed his gaze, and there he was; Parker.

He'd always been a lone wolf, not the life of the party, but he still caught people's eye. He was still in the trafficking business, but with a different crew, that ran product into the city in a different style. She had two gin and tonics (hers was just tonic water), but his drink was real. She picked them off the bar counter, a signal to Leo that she had spotted Parker.

She was Riley Knight, a cop, but in this scenario she was Jen Murphy, a rags to riches success story from California.

"Parker," she said, shouting over the music.

He turned, at first not recognising her with the shorter hair. But when he did, he smiled.

...

"Canada?" Parker laughed, coughing on the smoke coming out of his mouth.

"Yeah, it was the only place I could go, where no one could find me."

"Shit," he took another puff on his cigarette. They were outside in the cool night, on the pavement where the street was quiet and the music was only a faint base pounding. "Are they really as nice as everyone says they are?"

"Oh yeah, I was in immigration and said; 'I used to hire rich girls to become mules and smuggle heroin for me, but now I just a want a holiday in Toronto. He said, 'welcome to Canada, have you tried poutine?'"

Parker gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head; "that's a fucking lie, Jen."

"I swear on my mother's grave, it's what the immigration officer said," she insisted, holding her right palm up. _Little does he know I'm lying about my entire identity._

"I'm glad you're okay." He blew out smoke into the night air, averting his blue eyes from her, shyly. She looked at his profile; _I could have been him once, or with him, if my life had been different. If I hadn't made the choice to take that entrance exam into the police academy._

She supposed everything happens for a reason.

"Are you still… doing that?" He asked her, referring to the business of paying mules to smuggle product.

"No, it was fast money," the lies were pouring out, one after the other. "It was to easy to get a hold of those upper class girls who just wanted to piss off their parents. But if I kept going, I would've gotten caught." She sipped her fake gin and tonic, grateful it was too dark on the street to tell that her cheeks had not gotten red and she wasn't even the slightest bit tipsy. She despised the acidic smell of the cigarette smoke but couldn't tell him to stop.

"That sucks. You were good at it."

"I heard through the grapevine, that you're working with two new bosses?" She said, getting to the point of this whole mission.

"Yeah is that why you were looking for me at that party?" He said, surprising her, she clutched her purse harder feeling the phone in there, her breath catching. Her gun was still in a place high up her leg, hooked on the garter. "C'mon it wasn't a coincidence, you wanted to find me," Parker went on.

She locked onto his blue eyes and took the cigarette from his fingertips and sucked on it. The smoke filled her mouth, she leaned in close to him until she could smell him and blew it out. Their stares were fixed on each other. "Maybe," she slowly reached into his jacket's inner pocket and then just as he thought she might kiss him, she leaned away. The bag of drugs in her hands, she tossed the cig onto the road; it's amber light flickering out.

"First of all, you don't get to accuse me of anything when you lied about being clean," said Riley.

He patted down his jacket, feeling nothing there, realizing that she had played him again. "That's just product—"

"That you were going to sell at that party?" She interrupted him, and slapped the bag into the middle of his chest. "You obviously don't know how to be subtle about it like I can." She took a step closer to him, her voice low and harsh; "I want in, I want that feeling of adrenaline and power again. You know I can work this crowd better than anyone else in this city."

"I'm new to them," Parker said, "and they're not looking for anyone new now, especially anyone I would bring in. I have my boss and they have their bosses, we can't disappoint anybody or risk the consequences."

"What would those consequences be?" She asked, digging about what could have possibly happened to Reeding.

"Some semi-permanent consequences, and some more permanent than others."

"Who's the new boss?" She asked. He sighed, averting his gaze. She bent her head a little lower to meet his look; "You can trust me," she told him, she nearly believed that he could herself.

"Kitchen Irish; Sweeney."

Riley swallowed, feeling her thoughts go astray for a second, she was Riley Knight again, not Jen Murphy, _that's bastards name just keeps popping up._ "That guys been dead to this city for nearly two decades, are you sure?"

"Hell yeah I am. He's been fucking reincarnated." Parker licked his lips looking at their feet; "we have history in this business and you know I would do anything to help you if I could, but my hands are tied." She knew he meant each word; there was a softness to him that had made it easy to manipulate him in the past.

Was she a terrible person for taking advantage of that?

"Look, it was nice, really nice to see you again," he squeezed her arm, smiling apologetically, "but I can't help you."

There was a moment of trepidation. He seemed to want to stay longer to talk to her. About things that weren't related to the business. But then it must have hit him that nothing could ever happen between them, _in this fake world and even in the real one_. He nodded goodbye and left.

Riley hissed between her teeth, she spun around watching her opportunity leave.

It was time for Plan B.

* * *

 _Matt_

That sudden increased in heart rate, that feeling of breathlessness even though he hadn't run or walked, Matt picked up all those from Parker. The man that Riley was trying to convince to bring back to his superiors. Parker watched her as if her words were sacred. _He really likes her._ It was odd listening to someone's body when they were in love.

Matt couldn't really wrap his head around the whole situation. A criminal falling in love with a cop, (though Parker didn't know she was one.) She didn't reciprocate the feelings but surely it must be uncomfortable for her. Putting up with that discomfort, awkwardness, and willingness to lie must be difficult. Matt respected her even more for it.

He stayed close by in case something happened. He wasn't sure what the relationship would be between Riley and Parker; he'd expected hostility...not a friendship (albeit one built on lies). Anyway, it seemed like she wasn't in any danger.

Parker was at his car. Matt got up to leave when he heard; "Hands up! Give me your money!" He whirled back.

* * *

 _Riley_

Just as she caught up to Parker she saw a man holding him at gunpoint.

"Hey!" Riley howled at the thief, catching his attention to her.

She took out her gun and shot him twice in the chest.

He was propelled back and onto the gravel, a dark black pool slowing forming beneath him. She had no time to check on the thief, she ran to the driver's side door.

Parker was shell-shocked into his position, feet unmoving, staring at the dead man, the whites of his eyes shining. She yelled at him to get into the car with her.

* * *

 _Matt_

It happened so fast; he barely registered what she had done himself. The smell of hot gunpowder and smoke wafted up his nostrils, sharp and bitter. The man was thrown to the ground, blood seeping into the gravel.

Matt froze; nothing was making sense to him anymore. _She killed_ _him._ He gulped, the Daredevil suit feeling like dried glue, hot and peeling against his skin, he was unable to focus.

 _She killed him._

 _No, no this isn't happening._ This wasn't right. She couldn't just kill someone in cold blood.

Or so he thought.

 _Lub, dub._

 _Lub, dub._

He re-focused his hearing, the beat of the man's heart was still prominent. He heard tires screeching and the rest of Knight's task force pull up in vans. The man he thought she killed gasped for air and rolled over onto his front. Detective Fitzgerald hopped out of the car first, grabbing the 'thief's' arms and aiding him.

Matt realized it was a set-up to gain Parker's trust. He breathed a sigh of relief. He knew if she had indeed killed that man, he would never be able to work with her ever again.

* * *

 _Riley_

She returned to the station the next morning to report to Fitzgerald and the rest of the squad. "I'm meeting his bosses tonight. What do you have?" She asked when she walked in.

Fitzgerald was at his usual position at the front of the room, briefing them; "We had Croftsky check out Reeding's place, we found stolen cash in his study." He tossed a wad of cash onto the desk closest to him. "There's more where that came from."

"Kelly's mustn't be too happy with that," commented Malek from her desk. She took the money and trilled it with her thumb.

Riley went to the front and stuck print outs on the board; "Barry Conway and Larry Izaac, Parker's bosses. Conway is the number one, Izaac is his second. They must've locked Reeding up because they suspected he was stealing."

"Then you need to move faster," ordered Fitzgerald. "Call Parker."

When he was out of the room she went to Malek's desk to see how much money was there. There was at least 20K in her hand.

"Reeding has a little girl, Sierra," Malek told her, "she must think her dad's a hero, she had no idea," there was disgust in her tone.

Riley was taken back to the day the Feds came for the 15th, rounding up cops and throwing them in lock-ups upstate. It was maddening but it also made her breakfast slug up her throat. "This means everything people say about him is true, I don't think he deserves our help," said Riley vehemently.

"No one asked for your opinion Knight," muttered Croftsky who was by the printer, he was being intentionally loud enough so everyone heard him. Malek rolled her eyes, keeping her gaze on the paper work in front of her.

A sudden rage rammed like a hot rod through Riley's chest; "was I fucking talking to you Croftsky?"

Croftsky whipped around to grimace at her, an argument about to explode when Leo set them both straight; "both of you shut up!"

She threw her hands up in the air and headed for door. She was sick of it. _It's always a fucking drama in that room._ "Whatever." She didn't care if the glass on the door rattled when she slammed it.

Leo caught up with her in the hallway; "Yo!"

"What is it Leo? If that piece of shit wants to have the last word he can find me himself." She stopped to let him catch up with her.

"It's not about him," said Leo. "I get where you're coming from, I really do," he said, wholeheartedly. "I hate when lies about us become true. I remember everything that happened when Fisk was taken down." She was happy to hear she wasn't the only one who thought of that.

"It sucks to be in this position. But do your job," he asserted. "It's the only thing that we can do."

She exhaled, the anger she felt just now was fading. Leo went on to talk sense into her; "Sergeant Kelly, the Captain, Fitz, they're counting you. Set up the meet, cuz Reeding's running out of time."


	16. Chapter 16

_Riley_

They parked the car a few blocks from the meeting point beneath a flickering streetlight. She followed closely behind Parker. Without meaning too, she looked up to the rooftops of the buildings they passed. What was she expecting to see up there? Daredevil? There were a lot of risks that came with going undercover; one of them was the off chance that back up didn't arrive on time when things became dangerous. Riley was on edge, and a guardian angel, even Daredevil, would come in handy if it kept her safe.

She trusted Parker. But she didn't trust his bosses; Conway and Izaac. No one knew what happened to Reeding, he could be maimed, dead, or dying. The fact that he had disappeared for almost a week was indicator enough of how they treated undercover cops who tried to oust them.

"Three on a crew doesn't seem like enough to move the amount guys are bringing in," she said, her own voice sounding loud to her ears on that empty street. She saw a homeless man scuttle into the dark alley.

"We had someone but we had to drop him," replied Parker.

"Whoa, drop him?" She asked, inflecting shock. "How exactly? I need to know what I'm getting into."

"Just don't mention it to Conway and Izaac..." he stopped and faced her. "First he was taking more than his cut under their noses… but now, they're 80% positive he's an undercover cop."

Her eyes went round, "no fucking way. So where did they put him?"

"Izaac handled it."

Vague answers were not enough for her; she tried to dig more; "As in he—"

"You ask a lot questions Jen. This way."

He led her through the back door of a building, a long staircase led into a basement. It was black as ink and the walls were cool to the touch. At the bottom was another door where he knocked a specific rhythm and the door opened.

Two men sat in the low ceilinged room; it was bare with a few chairs stacked in the corner and a table in the center. It was probably only a meeting point, not a stash house. The men were of the same height, Conway had light brown hair, he was thin, with a long neck, and his under-eyes were lined with age. Izaac was heavier, bald, skin worn like leather. She could already tell he was going to let Conway do most of the talking.

"You must be Parker's new girlfriend," Conway said with a toothy smile. She held her hand out for a shake but he yanked it tight and planted a wet kiss like he was prince charming. "Barry Conway, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

 _He's going to be the most trouble._

She tugged her hand back roughly, her spine curling in disgust, but she remained unfazed on the surface. "Jen Murphy, and I sure as hell am not here as anyone's girlfriend."

"Parker told us you saved his life," said Izaac, not moving to shake her hand, he remained seated, leaning forward on the table.

"Stopped him getting from getting killed if that's what you mean."

"The guy wasn't anywhere near her but she got him, two the chest," Parker remarked animatedly, sincerely impressed by her shooting skills.

"Holy shit... you just killed him, no reservations?" Burst out Conway, "you could've just warned him to back off."

 _I hope Officer Michaels wasn't hurt too bad by that charade._ "He had a gun aimed at my friend," she said, blank-faced.

"This better not come back to us," Conway was starting to get riled up. She reckoned her mother had dated at least a dozen of these unstable bipolar type men. One minute they were charming fish out of water, the next they could have a gun to your head and you didn't even know it until it was too late. He directed his unhinged temper at Parker through clenched teeth; "This ain't the time to be screening new crew members."

"You cleaning house?" She asked, speaking out of turn.

His glare darted back to her; "Did I say anything about that?"

"Parker mentioned someone else had my place, what happened to him?"

"Why do you care what happened to him?" Izaac asked, he was as composed as a trickling stream whereas Conway was obviously a crashing tide against the cliffs.

"Who said, you had any place with us?" Conway hissed. She quickly glanced at Parker but he knew when to keep his mouth shut. She was on her own; she had to prove herself and no one could help her do that.

"You haven't managed to sell any coke at the last three house parties that Maxxie threw," she said, stand-offish, chucking the facts at him. "Keep this up, and you won't be making break even. You _need_ my counsel or my help, either one."

"Princess, who the hell do you think you are?" He hurled his hand out, "coming in here making demands. You want a place? You earn it," he warned her, baring his teeth.

"Exactly," she shrugged, agreeing to his point. He was taken aback by her levelheaded response. "As for the last guy, I need to know what I'm getting into. Do you drop bodies, or just make threats? These things matter, because I'd like to avoid bloodshed as much as possible."

Conway made a tisk noise, "Says you, you popped two into a homeless man's chest without a second thought."

"I made an exception to protect a friend."

"We don't know what kind of friend you'll be to us," Izaac said, his words chilling. He stood and suddenly he was the tallest in the room, she didn't expect that. "We don't treat thieves and liars lightly, I can promise you that."

"I have an idea!" Conway jumped eagerly, she wouldn't be shocked if he was snorting some product himself. He went to back of the room and returned with a bag of coke, which could supply the three house parties that they couldn't sell too. "Here," he slammed it onto the table. "Come back to us, when that entire bag is empty, then we can talk whether you can get a cut."

"No one can sell that much dope in a night," Parker argued, piping up his opinion.

"Okay."

Parker whipped his head to her in disbelief, "Jen, c'mon, 'okay,' do you see how much—"

"Okay, I can fucking do it." Riley snatched the bag up with a scowl, hotly defying him. "I'll be back tomorrow night, with the money."

Conway gave her his shark-like grin again. She hoped there was enough money in evidence lock-up to make this seem legitimate, or else she was screwed.

Or dead.

* * *

 _Matt_

Once the detective left the basement, he listened to the conversation of the criminals.

 _"I don't trust her,"_ Conway grunted, lighting a cigarette.

" _She can do it."_ Parker said earnestly, despite the nervous pitch in his tone. The detective was playing a convincing role so far; even Matt almost believed she was Jen Murphy.

" _She knows a lot about the business, and I don't mean that in a good way,"_ said Izaac. _"We'll take her to Reeding tomorrow, test her for real there."_

" _Are we still sticking to the plan?"_ Conway asked his second in command.

" _Yes."_

Matt took out his burner phone and called her detective.

Later that night he met with her briefly. "Thanks for the information," she told him as he stood on the fire escape outside her bedroom. "I gave the drugs to Fitzgerald and they'll exchange it for cash from lock-up, Conway won't suspect a thing."

"Are you ready for whatever test they have in store for you?" He asked, he had a feeling she would be, given the show she was giving them, making them believe she was a ruthless drug smuggler. But somehow, he got the sense that it wasn't entirely an act. It was just too good.

"I think so," she replied, but her mind was clearly miles away. He wanted to say that he understood what it was like to get lost in a character, in a costume. It could be dangerously easy sometimes to forget he was Matt Murdock when he was saving people as Daredevil. It was two parts your soul warring for control over your body. Did she feel the same way with Jen Murphy?

He remained silent on the matter however.

"Take the comm device," she gave it to him. "Just in case, do not be there unless I need you to be."

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Do as I say, D," she warned, using the same tone she gave Parker and his bosses when she assured them she could sell all those drugs in a night. Matt didn't question it.

* * *

 _Riley_

Conway took one look at the cash, looked at Izaac, back at her and then started clapping. The clapping got faster, rowdier, and then was accompanied by manic laughing.

"Holy shit! She actually fucking did it!"

Parker looked confounded himself, like she'd performed the world' greatest magic trick. In a sense she had.

"Come on, Jen, we're going to check on an old friend," Conway shouldered past her and then they were all in a van headed to God knows where. Finally they were taking her to Reeding. _I am in this, I have to keep playing the part, and I have to see this through to the end_ , she chanted in her head. She had to remain calm, for panicking could me death of her.

Daredevil had told her that Sam Reeding was still alive but to what extent, she couldn't be sure. She would never have gotten that solid intel if he had not been listening for her when she left the meet last night. She was tempted to leave him a voicemail today asking him to be there again tonight… but Riley's ego could feel an entire room and it got the best of her, and she couldn't always have a safety net.

She hoped she wouldn't regret it.

They reached the docks. The wind was stronger by the quays when she stepped out of the van, whipping her hair across her brow. Conway and Izaac led her towards a warehouse at the very end of the vast port where the water was the deepest and rockiest. It broke against the cement port sending white spray upwards. That was where she was met with the most peculiar sight.

There was car rested on the edge of the dock, on the precipice of tipping over. The wind was howling, and the slightest shove from it could send the car off, and sinking into the perilous water.

And inside that car were two people.

Riley stopped in her tracks. "What the hell is that?"

Conway gave her his signature shark smile; "I like to call it incentive."

* * *

 _Matt_

The next night, he was in his suit, mask off, on his rooftop waiting for a call from Detective Knight, he knew she was deep in enemy territory and he had to be ready in case she needed him.

But an hour passed and she still had not contacted him. When he got a phone call however, it wasn't her, it was his best friend, his real world calling.

" _Matt, I need a favour,"_ he could hear the tightly wound strain in his Foggy's words. he was distraught, and it was an enormous amount of effort to keep himself from imploding.

He totally forgot about Detective Knight, Sam Reeding, Conway, Izacc, all of them. It was only Foggy that mattered;

"Yeah, yeah anything."

Foggy started to ramble but Matt was able to make all of it out; _"My brother was an accident, he's at Metro General, internal bleeding-I_ _, I don't know if he's gonna make it—"_

"I'm so sorry, do—do you want to be there?" It was the right thing to offer.

" _I have a trial tomorrow,"_ Foggy spiraled of topic, expressing his concerns about that.

"Fog, that doesn't matter, you stay with your family."

" _It's the Mendez', they lived two doors down from me, I've known the dad my whole life— I can't bail on them. Karen's out of town, and you're only other person who can do this. I need you to work on the opening statement tonight and be there for the trial tomorrow morning in my stead."_

"Yeah—"

" _Please,"_ he begged. Matt hated that Foggy had to plead for him to be there for him. That wasn't how best friends operated. Matt had been doing it wrong these past few months, he had been an underserving asshole. He should be there for Foggy no matter what, and he was going to do that tonight. _"I need you to do this for me, okay? Whatever you have going on tonight, hold it off. Just for tonight, do this and we can leave the past in the past."_

Matt leapt at the chance for renewing their friendship. It was ticket to mending what was broken, the fix they both needed. It might be his only shot. "You can count on me, I swear it."

" _Thanks. I got to go, my mum's not listening to the Doc."_

As the dial tone filled his ear, he dropped his hand to his side, the conundrum only whacking him like a plank of wood then;

How was he supposed to uphold his partnership to Detective Knight, and keep a promise to his best friend?

* * *

 _Riley_

She wanted to choke on her own spit.

"The guy we had before you was an undercover cop. He was stealing more than his agreed-upon cut," Izaac explained, with an unforgiving look at the car. "We knew everything he said was lie, but we had nothing on him, to be honest. But now, we have leverage. And we can get more than just our money back."

She heard their faint wails of desperation as they walked past, it boiled her blood, but she dared not look. "You took his wife…and his kid?" _Her name is Sierra._ She was breaking character; she took note of it and reigned in her emotions. _Jen Murphy, I am Jen Murphy, I don't care… I don't care._ "He must really have wronged you."

The warehouse was the size of a football field, there were a few containers stacked in one end. Some were open, there was one in center with it's door open, where they were headed.

Outside, his wife and daughter were in a moving prison; inside Sam Reeding was chained in a stationary one.

He was more swelling bruises than skin, multiple bloody gashes tore his shirt. He was so still she thought he might be dead. But with a soft moan he was roused awake by their footfalls.

"You two stay here, I need to have a chat with Izaac," Conway barked at them.

Once they were out of hearing distance she directed her fury to Parker standing next to her. "What does the family have to do with my initiation, we shouldn't have involved them!" She said in a shouted whisper.

"Why are you acting like you're innocent?" He retaliated, but it was obvious from the anxious gleam in his eyes, and the way his fist tightened and closed, that he was skittish, and the situation outside was as nerve wracking for him as it was for her. "You shot someone in the knee once, because they were looking at you wrong."

"This is a hundred times different!"

"Now is not the time to suddenly have a conscience, Jen," he said, trying to keep the snarl out of his tone. He made a 'keep an eye on him' gesture with his fingers as he left to go where their bosses were talking.

Once all of them were on the other side of the warehouse out of earshot, she strode to the container, ensuring her footfalls were light.

Reeding looked up at her as she neared, one eye was swollen shut, the size of a small mandarin, and the other was bloodshot.

"What do you want," he asked her, voice raspy and laborious, his throat must be raw as he was probably very dehydrated.

"Keep your voice low," she crouched down to his level. "I'm NYPD," she whispered, "Kelly sent me."

He rested his head on the container wall, chest shaking in pure relief, "Jesus, thank God," he swallowed, licking his papery dry lips; she could see a glimmer of hope burn relight in him. "Do you have a plan?"

"You crossed them," she replied, stonily. "It's all they go on about. Be straight with me, did you take money from them?"

"What? I swear I didn't!" He retorted a little too loudly, she shushed him with a finger.

"Don't lie to me Reeding."

"I'm not afraid of these guys," he hissed. How could he even have any fight left in him? "It's their bosses, we should all be afraid of."

"I don't think so; they have your family."

His jowls sagged, he shook his head; "No, no," he tugged on his chains and they jangled uselessly. The one eye she could see was open wide with terror. "You could have fucking started with that."

She momentarily felt guilty; it wasn't easy news to deliver. But he kind of put himself in this position, however. She was only concerned about the innocent people he had endangered, not much for his own remorse. "If you tell me where you stashed the stolen money; we can exchange it for your wife and kid."

"They won't let me out of here alive, I know it, and they could hold them ransom," his chains jangled again in his distress, she could hear footsteps approaching. "You have to get to them—"

"Hey!" Conway hollered. "What the fuck you doing? Making friends? Step away from him."

She kept her eyes on Reeding. "Just asking him a few questions, he's not cooperating," she announced to her 'boss.' Knight punched the cop in the face, another bruise wasn't going to make the older ones heal any faster. She sold it as Conway yelled at her to get out of the container once more.

"Now we can make him talk," said Izaac.

"We agreed no bloodshed," she contended.

"Are you the boss here, or me?" Conway said brusquely, "we needed him to talk, and now we can, why the fuck do you care?"

She knew silence was the best and safest answer to that. Conway went to their prisoner and lifted his face up by his chin. "Where's the money?" Reeding glared defiantly at him. "If you don't talk. They're dead, Reeding, and so are you," he took out his phone and showed him the video. She saw the immediate regret and fear take over the cop. "I just left the car there... right on the edge," Conway was proud of his handiwork. "Always found those scenes in movies so suspenseful, I thought I would reenact it. Any second now, and that car tips over."

Reeding used what strength he had and tried to grab Conway's neck, he obviously failed, as the chains didn't give. "You fucking—"

Conway slammed him into the container wall, squishing his cheek into it. "Start wagging that filthy, lying tongue of yours, or your wife and girl drown at the bottom of the Hudson River. No one's going to be there to save them. Not even you."

He hissed at the pain the pressure put on his swollen face. "You're going to kill a cop," spat Reeding. "Do you know what'll happen to you—?"

"You're in no fucking position to make threats!" Conway yelled directly into his ear, the container was like a cave his voice ricochet from the back of it and rung across the entire warehouse. "Where's our money!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

Conway latched onto a handful of Reeding's hair and threw him into the ground in frustration. He went back to the three of them.

"I think it'd be a good idea to _stop_ lying," Riley told Reeding icily. What more did he have to save by keeping his mouth shut? It was over; he had everything to lose now. _People don't make sense._ She knew he took their money, they all did. What did he have left to salvage? His career? She wanted to take another swing at him herself mainly to get him to stop wasting everyone's precious time.

But Conway had other plans.

He looked at her and said; "shoot him."

"Where?" She merely asked without a shred of emotion.

"His balls, his knee cap, I don't give a shit," he shouted at her, growing more irate by the second. "Just do it!"

She controlled her reaction. _I am Jen, I am not Riley Knight, I am Jen,_ was on a loop in her head. She took out her gun, clocked it and raised it at Reeding, stimultaneously trying to decide what her next move should be.

"Where is the money? All of it, tell us now," she demanded. He stared at her not saying a word; waiting for her to make a move on the real bad guys to save him, to point the gun anywhere else but at him. She stood her ground, however, never breaking character.

He opened his mouth to reply—

She fired a warning shot. He curled in on himself, wincing. His one eye stared back at her with shock, jarred by her actions. He realized that she had not broken character, and she wasn't saving him just yet. Knowing that he had betrayed his badge, Riley got some satisfaction out of this punishment. He was shook up enough to finally give them answers;

"Alright! Fuck," he relented. He read out bank numbers. "There should be 200K in a storage facility on the docks, number 231, in a blue locker."

Riley backed out of the container and watched Conway. He smiled, but she saw the devil within the look. "Thank you," he said, content, hands behind his back. "Was that so goddamn hard to admit? You could've saved us all the time."

He sighed slowly, glanced at her, and cocked his head to Reeding.

"Okay, princess. Now shoot him in the head."

* * *

 _We'll be done with this arc in the next chapter which is in editing! It was too big so I broke it down to make it easier to read! Stay tuned guys! Hope you guys liked it! Please review xx_


	17. Chapter 17

"What?" Riley blurted. She must have heard something wrong, but she knew she hadn't. _Never, ever underestimated your enemy,_ she scolded herself internally.

"Let my family go, first," Reeding snarled at them.

Conway intentionally ignored their prisoner, his eyes were as cold as a glacier, boring into her. "Shoot him, right here," he tapped his index at the center of his forehead.

The order was too impulsive, even for Parker, her only ally at the moment. He came to her defense; "And have the entire 9th precinct after our assess?"

She pressed the emergency receiver in her pocket to signal Fitz and the squad to her location. "If we let him go, they'll be after us," she said, icy quiet. There was logic here in Conway's insanity, she saw it, understood it even. "He dies and we leave him here, we'll be long gone before anyone finds him, or us."

"Clever girl," replied Conway with a cruel grin that disappeared swiftly. "Now kill him."

Riley's eyes darted between Parker and Reeding and back. Reeding was shaking his head in anguish; _he could be contemplating ratting me out any second_ _now_. You can never trust a desperate man. They would both be dead if that happened. Her palms were sweaty as if the gun might slip out of her grasp, her heart contorted in her chest. Backup had to be at least ten minutes out. She wanted to look to the rafters to see if Daredevil was around but couldn't risk it. It was too late to contact him over the comm device. She couldn't believe she was praying for him to be there. Someone.

But she was alone.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath in.

She lifted the gun at Conway.

In the next second three things happened;

First, Parker jolted as if she'd electrocuted him; "Whoa, whoa!" His eyes were flinging left and right, wild and frightened. He stumbled back.

Next, two guns were pointed at her, Conway and Izaac's.

Finally, and rather touchingly, Parker aimed his own gun at Izaac, defending her. And everything was going to hell.

"I fucking knew it," Conway growled.

"Hey, hey, everyone calm down!" Parker yelled, but no one was really listening to his calls for peace.

"Let the family go," she ordered, glaring daggers at Conway.

"Jen what are you doing?" Parker asked her, defeated, his entire world crashing. She was betraying him right before his eyes.

"Either you go out there yourself or you give me the keys and I let them go," she said, keeping her gaze steady on Conway. "Drive that car away from the edge and let them go."

"Bitch, you think you can give me orders now?" He hissed. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw something dart from the ceiling. Riley was a hundred percent aware she was playing with death but she did it anyway, training that gun on Conway's head.

"I'm Detective fucking Knight," she said with viciousness that could cut stone. "Let them go!"

Daredevil descended from the rafters and tackled Izaac first. The distraction allowed her to wrestle Conway's gun from him. But at the same time, Parker started firing and she didn't know who he was aiming for. Since she was likely on his execution list now too. She released Conway, and he elbowed her in the nose. Riley lost her footing for a moment, but then dashed into the container to free Reeding by shooting his chains. She swivelled and saw Conway making a break for the exit.

Whilst Daredevil dealt with Izaac. Parker was upon her before she knew it. There was vengeance written all over his face. He had no more gun but he had his fists. He slammed into her and took both of them down. Her gun flew out of her hand, she tried to get it but Parker latched onto her calf and took her down again. They traded blows, he was running on rage at her, but she had to get him out of her way so she could get to the Reeding family before Conway did anything.

With her heel she kicked his chin, grabbed her gun, and hit him again across the cheek for good measure. She leapt to her feet and ran after Conway.

In the expanse of the docks she ran for the car where there Reeding family were trapped inside. But she was too late... there was an empty space where the car used to be. "No!" Riley cried, she ran faster until her legs were on fire. She got to the edge, the momentum making her loose her footing. She precariously balanced herself before she fell in too. Her attention immediately sharpened.

The car was swallowed by the river. She threw a fleeting glance at Conway who was already escaping. There was no chance to apprehend him right now.

The moon was cloaked by clouds that night, it etched white scallops on the choppy water. She took out her comm device and turned it on hoping Daredevil still had his hooked onto him. "D, I need a spotlight!" She shouted into the air. The comm device came online.

" _He's getting away—!"_

"NOW!" She threw her jacket to the ground to lessen the weight on her person. Her lungs were heaving from the sprint, her whole body shaking. _No, I have to go after them._ She didn't wait for the light source. Despite only just regaining her breath, she took a giant breath in and dived.

The water hit her front. It was much colder than she anticipated. Her clothes pulled her down. She opened her eyes, feeling the sting of the water. It was pitch black darkness.. and then the murky green water was alight. Daredevil had listened to her. She saw the boot of the car, heading downward fast into the depths of the river. Reeding's wife and child were both tied in there, by wrist and ankle; they had no way of freeing themselves within the crucial time period.

She kicked madly to the car, the entire world around her a blur. Her chest was starting to tighten. But she had to keep swimming forward, she kicked harder.

Her hand landed on the car's taillight, she caught purchase on it and pushed her body to the side where there was a window. With the butt of her gun she hit the glass multiple times. The moment it broke, water would flood in at twenty times the speed. She had to work fast.

The window broke. She could see a smaller figure and a larger one, the kid held out her tied hands to Riley and she latched onto her first. _I hope she can swim._

Riley pulled the little girl out. Her lungs started to burn. The mother looked like she hadn't moved at all. Riley reached in as far as she could and pulled on her shirt.

But her seatbelt was stuck. Riley gave an almighty tug. But there was nothing. Black spots were choking her vision.

She twisted in the water, the little girl was struggling to swim with bound feet, she saw her eyes rolling to the back of her head. She couldn't lose them both. She had to choose.

Riley took hold of her. Up and up and up they went.

Riley breasted the surface gagging and wheezing, her heart shuddering. She had no sense of orientation. The girls eyes were closed. Suddenly hands were grabbing onto her. Pulling her up onto a boat deck. Riley spat out a mouthful of water. The little girl was unconscious but a fireman had started CPR on her.

She was shuddering and shaking, crippled. Another one held her shoulder asking if she was ok. "Forget me," the snarl ripped through her throat, exacerbating her violent coughing, "her mums still down there," she said between fits.

"We're taking you back to shore," she heard the fireman say.

Everything moved past in a blur.

* * *

The unfilled report sat on her desk in front of her. It had been more than a day already, but she could still taste the disgusting river water in her mouth. She stared at the form; pen in hand, she had only written her name and the date, nothing else.

She remembered being in the back of an ambulance a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Some paramedic was checking her blood pressure and shining a light into her pupils. She moved their wrist away from her face reiterating for the hundredth time that she was fine.

And then the news came back to her from Mahoney. They couldn't save the mother. He tried to shield her from the sight of the black body bag, but he couldn't.

Since that night, her chest felt hollow, like the husk of a blackened and burnt tree trunk.

Fitzgerald had been at the scene; she spoke to him for a while and so was Kelly. They were congratulating her. Conway had been captured after all. She knew it was Daredevil who had done that, even if no one would admit it. _Small mercies._

She had come across a lot of terrible men in her line of work. But the kind that endangered their own family due to their greed? They were reprehensible in Riley's book. She prayed internal affairs lock Reeding away for good, in a general population facility, where he couldn't hide behind the custody of guards.

Honestly, considering the whole Fisk scandal, losing Amy, nearly losing Tommy. Another version of her would have shot Reeding. Out of revenge, out of spite. _No, no, what is wrong with me? He doesn't deserve to die... that's not up to me._

She was alone in the room, no Croftsky to judge her if she was having a rough day. And she had to admit, it was rough. She held her head in her hands. These thoughts piling in her mind were poisonous. She was doing this to herself. She had to stop.

There was no way she was going to get the report done that afternoon. She decided to go for a walk to clear her mind.

"Where are you off too?" McDavis asked her from the desk when she was in the lobby. "Fitzgerald said you're supposed to be chained to your desk today."

"A walk," she replied tersely. Not in the mood to deal with wisecracking desk sergeants. Her boss meant to give her paperwork out of the goodness of his heart, to give time for her to reflect, accept that she couldn't save someone, and move on. So far it wasn't working.

Out of nowhere, Murdock went up to her, or at least in her general bubble of space. She saw Nelson lingering by the doorway.

"Knight."

"Hi." She was seeing him around a lot lately, probably the second time in a week.

"Foggy told me you were here."

She leaned to the side and waved at Nelson behind him. "Yeah, at least he didn't lead you into the lady's bathroom."

Murdock laughed, and then asked more soberly; "are you still undercover?"

"No. That case is over."

"Did it go alright?

Frankly, she wasn't ready for questions from curious lawyers. But she tried to be polite, "not really."

"I heard a car crashed into the water, one fatality. Were you there?"

She wished she didn't have to say another word about it. The more she spoke of the incident the more it loomed like another failure over her head. But she couldn't just nod, she had to say something; "Yeah I was."

"I'm sorry, did you know them?"

 _I didn't, but even so, I was so close to saving her life. I had her daughter, I held her shirt in my fingers. But I wasn't strong enough. I am never strong enough._ Yet all she said was; "no."

He smiled with a heavy heart; "well, I know you did everything you could."

There it was, the magical phrase. Everyone was saying it, or a variation of it. It was maddening.

"How?" She wanted to know, "You weren't there." The aim of the mission was to get Reeding back and she succeeded, but it felt aimless. He was a dirty cop, _he_ should be the one buried six feet underground. She was certain he was grieving too, but it just didn't seem like enough of a punishment for his actions.

"I didn't have to be, I know you did," Murdock said, ardently. How could someone who hardly knew what she did on the job believe in her like he did? It didn't make sense to get this praise and recognition for her failures. She didn't deserve it. _Perhaps its a Catholic thing._

She couldn't bring herself to agree with him; "doesn't feel that way."

They both paused. She was going to make an excuse to go somewhere else when he gave a half smile and cocked his head to the door; "Come on, I'll buy you a drink."

 _From one painful conversation to the next._ "No thanks, I don't drink anymore."

His shoulders slumped awkwardly, he was red-faced, apologising; "I'm sorry, I didn't know—"

"It's Friday, you should go have fun with Nelson and Ms. Page. I'm not exactly a bag of laughs right now."

"Okay."

"I need to make a phone call," she squeezed his arm as a farewell, "I still have work to do."

"You save a kid's life but you don't get a day off?"

She smiled weakly, unlocking her phone. "C'est la vie."

* * *

 _Matt_

"I asked her to join us for a drink," he moaned, feeling like the world's dumbest piece of shit then.

Foggy suppressed his laugh and patted his shoulder reassuringly; "C'mon on Matty, did you have a brain fart? You know she doesn't do that."

"It was stupid."

"You were just trying to be a friend. Speaking of which-thanks for being there at the trial this morning," said Foggy on a more serious note.

"Yeah no worries," Matt smiled. The tension that had been brewing between them the past few weeks had dissipated into thin air as if it had never been there in the first place. He thought he half-assed the trial, given how tired he was after getting home late. There was no way he could choose between saving Knight and preparing for the trial. He needed to find a way to make both work.

He went into an overdrive mode, reading the case file, pacing back and forth in his living room practicing his speeches. When he thought he had a clear enough idea of what had to happen in court, he tracked the detective, and played his role as Daredevil. Afterwards he changed into pyjamas and stayed up late to finalize the details of the trial that morning.

He'd been exhausted to the point of delirium he almost attended court in his sweatpants. The trial was successful nonetheless, Mendez was acquitted of all charges as Foggy promised the family.

Juggling two worlds had not been easy. If he was a second too late to arrive at the warehouse, a lot more people would be dead, including Knight.

There was still a loss though. He heard the moment when Reeding's wife's airway filled with water…Matt shook his head, he needed to erase that memory or else he'd never be able to sleep.

What if he hadn't worked on Mendez's trial, done the favour for Foggy? What if he had not been so last minute? Would she still be alive? Would she still be able to hold her daughter in her arms, save her from a worthless father?

Sierra, that little girl, had no one she could count on anymore. With a father in jail and a dead mother she was practically an orphan.

Was that his fault? _Did I make her an orphan? Like me?_

"Hey you shouldn't even be here, you should take a personal day," Matt told Foggy to distract himself from his doomed internal monologue. Foggy's brother was going to make a full recovery thankfully.

"I would but—"

His phone buzzed against his chest. But if it had been his work phone there would be a set ringtone. No, this wasn't that. This was his Daredevil phone.

Matt reacted to it as if he had been tased.

"Err, what's happening?" Foggy asked, bemused.

"It's the burner phone." Murdock whirled to where the detective was. She was on the other side of the lobby, her back facing them.

"Wait..the-the Daredevil phone?"

But then she glanced over her shoulder and frowned at them, he imagined they must look incredibly conspicuous, freaking out like headless chickens, not knowing where to go, how to act, what to do. Foggy, being about as subtle as gun was staring holes into her. Matt smacked his arm.

"Don't look!"

Foggy gaped at him, horrified. "She's calling you, _now?!"_

"It's too early in the day to even talk." He could have fallen to his knees thanking God that the burner was on silent.

Since it was apparent Matt's legs forgot how to function, Foggy practically airlifted him outside and down the steps of the precinct, out of view of Detective Knight. "Are you going to answer it?"

Matt took the phone out of his inner pocket and declined the call with shaking fingers. _That was too damn close._

"I'll call her back later."

* * *

 _Riley_

"You called?" Said Daredevil when he arrived on her rooftop.

"Yeah, like a dozen times?" She snapped, she didn't like to be kept waiting. "You normally answer on the first two rings."

He held his palms out, "sorry, I was busy, are you okay, after—?"

She had a feeling he was going to dive into an in-depth discussion about Lila aka Reeding's wife, death. He seemed like an empathetic individual who would want to analyze what happened in detail. His manner reminded her of someone…

She couldn't put her finger on it.

But it wasn't the time to be grief-stricken for a woman she did not know. "I was thinking; obviously someone on the inside told them who Reeding really was. We just have to figure out who it is."

"Anything you want to add?" He asked, monotone, losing patience with her.

"Jesus, where did that attitude come from? I'm telling you that there are still dirty cops on the force."

He clicked his tongue; "I have to be somewhere else."

"Where else?" She threw her arms into the air; she had been trying to hold in her depression the whole day, and it was lashing out of her in the form of resentment. "This is important, more than anything else you have going on! Don't you see? We-"

"Are you fucking serious?" He burst out, something snapping inside of him too. "I have a whole other life when I don't do this! Does that ever occur to you?" He spat, and she was stunned into silence. "Do you know how many times it's fallen apart? Almost to the point of being unfixable?"

Riley had her arms folded, she gripped them, she didn't know what was going on. Where was the cocky, quick-witted vigilante she was used too? She could handle that, not this. She shrugged a shoulder, her jaw tight; "it's none of my business, so…"

"Great advice, you're so helpful," he replied, spiteful.

"What the hell do you want me to say?"

"What happened at the docks feels important to me, and it definitely was to you. Someone died. If I was a few minutes early I could've gotten to the car-"

"There will always be causalities!" She shouted, not caring who heard her. "We move on and find justice, that's what we do." _Why is he being so preachy?_

"You're the one playing things off like it's okay when you're broken up inside," he stabbed her with a finger reproachfully. "That's not healthy."

She couldn't help but give a sarcastic retort, "oh, oh that's not _'healthy'_? What shall I do then, eat a fucking kale salad?!"

"You're unbelievable," he shot back.

She gave a short bitter laugh. "D, I don't know who the hell you are, and you don't know me either. So whatever problems you have with your other life, you fix that, and stay out of mine while you're at it. You don't bring that shit to these meetings."

She stormed off towards the door, never looking back to see whether he was still there or not.

Who the hell did he think he was? He had no idea who the hell she was as a person, why was he pretending that he did? Did he think because he could physically be out there, in a mask, saving people, he could somehow save her too?

He had it easy. He could mourn in private. She couldn't. At the station, they would all talk of how she _almost_ saved Lila's life, to her face and behind her back. She couldn't hide from anybody. But he could.

She thought about it a little longer and realized she had gotten a peek at who Daredevil was beneath the mask…in figurative terms, he let it slip. _T_ _here's a cost to being him._ It was strange seeing a glimpse of the real.

* * *

 _Matt_

 _"... Most days I forget what happened during the Fisk scandal..."_ Knight smacked her lips, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. _"Then terrible things happen and I remember what it was like to lose faith."_ She told Father Lathom in the confession's box.

Matt sat outside on the bench at the bottom of the steps to the church. _"Don't let this set you back..."_ the Father advised her. He hadn't been able to tune them out completely. But he had no right to invade her private words to the pastor. He swallowed his guilt, he had enough sins to be begging God's forgiveness for.

For a few long minutes he sat and prayed and meditated. His back was ram rod straight, cane in one hand pointed to the sky. He let his thoughts pass at the forefront of his mind like cars in traffic, acknowledging they were there but not letting them weasel into his conscience. He heard faint footsteps coming nearer.

"Murdock, how's it going?" Before he knew it, Knight stood before him. "You here to visit the pastor?"

He opened his eyes, though they were still covered by his dark glasses. "I met him a little while ago," he stood.

She smiled at him, intrigued. "What do you have to ask penance for, anyway?"

 _For letting my father down, Foggy down, for lying to you, to Karen, for the people I harm, for the people I couldn't save..._ "Hey, I've done a lot of bad things, Knight," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Don't underestimate this handsome face."

"I shouldn't have asked," she rolled her eyes. There was an evident bounce to her step, a pep in her. She was feeling hopeful again. For some reason, it made him feel good to see her like this. "You going this way?" Knight asked.

"Yeah."

"I'll drive you home."

He shook his hand at her; "no, no, you don't have too."

"Please, I insist," she nudged his back in the direction of her vehicle which was parked a short walk away. "I'm being nice to you, Murdock, don't take it for granted." They started for her car. "Besides, my car was recently serviced, I fixed a dent."

"'A dent'"? He guffawed; "You obeying the road laws, detective?"

She snorted; "you should've seen the other guy—ah," she winced realising what she had said, she forgot he was blind. "Oh crap, sorry, it's a phrase, and I have foot-in-mouth disease."

He laughed light-heartedly; "It's okay."

"I never liked saying it anyway."

"I...hope you're feeling better after that case," he said, hesitant to bring it up. "It must have been rough."

She bit her lip; "It was," she replied, more firmly. She'd obviously come to terms with what happened.

"And you're okay now?"

"Yeah, mostly," she admitted, her breath catching in her throat. "Things like this happen no matter how hard we try to avoid it." Her voice didn't echo off into space like it did in the precinct, she was going to be okay. And he could be too.

"Hah, if Foggy was here, he'd yell for us to live our lives and try to convince me to go for drinks and dance."

"You. _Dance_?" She exclaimed in an insulting way.

"I don't dance—" he tried to explain but couldn't get a word in during her spell of hysterical laughter.

"Do you get some cane action in there? To spice up the dance moves?" She asked, holding her tummy to settle herself down. He stopped on the pavement, appalled; "Oh really? 'Cane action', you're going to pick that name for it."

She looked sullenly at him; "what's wrong with the name?"

"It's tacky and lacks originality."

"How else can you explain, the swinging motions," she hooked her elbow through his arm and swayed them left and right. "the can-can."

He slapped his forehead; "oh my God." But clearly she was enjoying the fact that she was embarrassing herself, him, and the bad jokes.

He'd been giving all his attention to her, he didn't notice what was going on when they reached her unmarked car parked in the alley and neither had she.

A body slammed onto her hood, a mugger pointed the barrel of a gun into a man's face. "Give me all your cash, do it now!" He howled.

Knight shoved Matt away from her to keep him safe. She aimed her gun at the mugger. "Police! Let him go!"

"Shit!" He cursed, his mind not cooperating with his body soon enough after being startled by her. "I said; let him _go."_ She repeated, nearing him. Matt's fist was paper white as he clutched his cane. He couldn't intervene without raising suspicion. He stayed still as a sentinel tree and made no move to help. It was as though he had his hands tied behind his back.

"Put the gun on the ground and kick it to me." He followed her instructions and put his hands in the air and knelt. The man he was trying to rob got out of Knight's way so she could make the arrest. When she had her back to the 'victim', she took her handcuffs out.

But the victim was staring at her, suddenly that fear he'd had a second ago wasn't there, there was something malevolent replacing it... it raised Matt's hackles. There was the smell of something chemical in the mugger's jacket pocket.

The 'victim' grabbed a glass bottle and swung it at Knight's skull. _Thwack._

She grunted and collapsed forward. Her lashes were fluttering, she flitted in and out of consciousness.

Matt took a step back. They were in the middle of an open road, someone could be watching. "Detective!" He shouted out. "Knight!" She had to hear him, she had to get up. _GET UP PLEASE GET UP_. He was short of screaming it out to her, but he couldn't. He took another step back, getting ready to run. But could he? _I can't, I can't move._

He might as well be handicapped.

The mugger was swiftly on his feet, his gun clocked at Matt. "I have a gun, it's pointed at you, make one move and I shoot." His hand had a decent grip on the trigger, very stable. He might miss or he might not if made a run for it.

 _But_ _I can't leave her._

He shuddered, at a loss of what to do, except raise his arms in surrender; "Please let us go," he entreated, "please, she's a cop, they'll look for her, they'll for me." But reason wasn't going to work with these guys. "You don't want to do this."

"Shut the fuck up- Jonah, deal with her," the mugger instructed his partner. It was clear; he had no choice, he had to let himself get captured. Jonah took out a rag soaked in chloroform and covered Knight's mouth with it. She was out in a matter of seconds. The man with the gun approached Matt, he gulped as the cold barrel of the gun touched his temple. He wasn't Daredevil he was Matt Murdock then. That was who he had to be.

The man was his height, _one elbow to the gut and a fist to the nose_ , Matt could easily take him. But instinct yelled at him to not do anything. No matter who he was, he was always playing a character.

"You may be blind, but you're not stupid enough to get killed," he hissed into his ear. "Besides, it'll be useful to have you too. Start walking." The rim of the gun moved to the back of his head and it was used to prod Matt in the direction down the alley. He could tell from the way the armed one walked and how his shoulders squared, that he was a seasoned veteran in this profession of kidnap and murder. No amateur.

As the pair of them reached Jonah standing over Knight, the partner turned and smothered the chloroform rag over Matt's mouth. The odour seared through his nostrils and up to his brain, burning on its ascent. He could feel himself falling, or maybe he imagined it. The ground rushed up to meet him. Knight was beside him. His world on fire was feeble sparks of a lighter...about to die out.

Darkness was a thick, suffocating oil, slithering over his mind, taking it over. With whatever strength he had left he pushed his cane beneath her car. _Someone will find it,_ he thought, or said, he didn't know anymore. Didn't know anything anymore...

* * *

 _Hey guys! Hope you liked the chapter! I think there might be a few mistakes, but I really wanted to get this out! Please review, favourite or follow if you want more, thanks for stopping by :)_


	18. Chapter 18

_Hey guys! I just wanted to let you know that I read all your reviews and I am truly grateful for each and every single one of them! You are just the sweetest. I'm trying to keep those updates coming, I'm thinking this will be a three part arc so here's what happened after that cliffhanger last week..._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 _Riley_

When she came too, her head was pounding like distant thunder accompanied by dizziness that made her the world spin. She was in a room with brick walls and cement floors, sheets of tarp and a stack of iron rods. The place looked unfinished. Her stomach felt violently sick, she wanted to retch on her thighs but there was nothing puke out. She moved but she was bound to the chair with rope by her ankles and wrists.

The hysteria was settling into her chest like a virus, making itself at home. It wasn't going to disappear anytime soon.

What happened came back to her in pieces and then all at once; the church, Murdock, the sharp pain on the back of head, a burning smell…

 _Murdock._

Remembering, she lurched forward. A soft moan came from behind her. She spun her head around, despite how it exacerbated the headache. He was behind her, their chairs tied back to back with the rope around both their chests.

He was coming too. "Murdock…" she muttered, "Murdock, are you alright?"

He took a while to respond, as his other senses acclimated to the situation.

"Yeah…" he said, tiredly. "You?"

"My head hurts," she bent her neck and hissed at the pain that blossomed from it, a lump must be forming where she was hit. "But we're alive."

 _For now._

"Where are we?" He asked her. She realized she would have to describe everything in detail to him. If this was already terrifying, the fact that he was with her added another dimension of complexity to it.

"I don't know, but we're above ground," she explained, turning her head to and fro to examine their surroundings with a sharper eye. "Looks like an abandoned construction site." She scanned her body; she could not feel her gun or her phone in her pockets. The panic in her was mounting, creeping up her throat. She had to remain calm and focused however, if she was going to get both of them out of this.

"Did they take your phone too?"

He paused to move around, motion of his chair reverberating to hers. "Yeah they did. Did you get a good look at them?"

"I did." She closed her eyes trying to remember what she saw, to build an image of them in her head. The fake mugger was almost six feet; he was well built but lean, closely shaved head with dark hair. The one who'd closed the chloroform rag over her mouth was shorter, with a stocky build, hollow cheeks, and limp blonde hair. "I just came too, they haven't come by yet." _I should have heard it coming, I should have told Murdock to get away as fast as he could._ The panic she was trying to keep in spilled out in a flurry of curses; "fuck, shit. Shit."

She clamped her fists open and close but it was doing nothing to loosen the ropes. She angled her head to the ceiling internally screaming at the world for throwing her obstacle after obstacle. Was it too much to ask for a quiet week at work? Too much?

"What do you think they want?"

"I'm a vice detective, Murdock, it could be anything," she replied sharply, like it was the most obvious thing to discern from the situation. There was a door to her left where their captors would enter. Any number of things could follow that, but it was highly likely that they were in for a horror-filled evening. It made her taste bile in her mouth.

But her sharpness towards him wasn't fair; he didn't ask to be a part of this. He was just the damned soul who was near her when she was captured. _I should just be a friendless police officer for the rest of my life, everyone around me get's served the same shit I do._ She turned her head to him again; "I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"It's not your fault," he said softly.

"If they come, I talk alright?" She instructed him. If he contributed it may put a target on his back and she couldn't have that if he could not give them answers they wanted.

"Don't worry," _easier said than done,_ "I will find a way to get us out of this," reassuring herself at the same time. Being blind, he would be counting on her to be the one to save them, which was the _least_ he should expect of her. The rope was nylon, but tied the way it was it might as well have been made of iron. "Just trust me okay?"

He went deathly quiet then, she strained against the ropes again to try to get a better look at him, but she still couldn't see his face no matter how hard she twisted. He was doing some…odd tilt motion with his head…

She was about to ask him where she had seen that before, when the door opened.

…

The dark haired man entered first, he looked the same as he did before. A stern, coldhearted manner about him, you would duck your head if you passed him on a lonely street at night. He was the boss of this, as the thinner one came in afterwards, he was the one was had been acting as a victim.

"Ah, you two have finally woken up," said the boss, a wolfish grin spread across his face. He circled the pair of them like a carrion crow and they were dead meat.

"Where are we? Who are you?" She demanded, fixing a stony glare on him.

He stopped in front of her, his partner in front of Matt. "You can call me Rob. As for where you are, I can't tell you that." His tone was well mannered, courteous even, but she could hear the malice laced within it.

"What do you want from us?" She didn't feel half as convincing as she sounded.

'Rob' shrugged a shoulder, she noticed the gun on his belt; "I just want to have a chat."

"You've made a huge mistake," she hissed.

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, "are you not Detective Riley Knight, NYPD, 15th precinct?"

"Exactly, I'm not someone who just disappears!"

He turned his palms to the floor shushing her, "relax… we just needed to ask you a few questions," he signalled for his partner to get a chair for him and he sat in front of her, clasping his hands together, leaning forwards to her. His eyes were paler than stone and his voice went spider soft; "I respect your profession, detective. And we can both respect each other. If you take the time to consider what I have to say…no one gets hurt."

He almost sounded like he meant them no harm, but she knew it in her bones that was far from the case.

"And what do you have to say?" She asked her volume matching his.

"We know you've been working with Daredevil. Tell us who he is, and we'll let you go."

She licked her lips nervously; this was the last thing she expected. She went to her default answer; "I don't know." It was the truth nonetheless.

He frowned unhappily, the temperature in room dropped a few degrees; "you're lying, you know something."

"I have never met him."

A calculating smile played on his thin lips; "yet somehow every report with the vigilante involves you with him one way or another."

She shook her head. She knew their partnership had become too noticeable but she had not estimated it would reach the level of kidnapping her. There was also obviously a mole lurking in the station too, feeding information to thugs. Now everyone would want a piece of her to get to the vigilante. _You're a bloody idiot, Riley..._

"Our entire precinct has seen him at least once," she told him through clenched teeth.

He sighed, shoulders falling, like a disappointed father; "The facts tell us otherwise, detective. You are a woman of the law, you can't wilfully ignore the facts, they are the truth. Please stop lying, and tell us whom he is."

She snarled; "I don't fucking. Know."

He made a 'mmhm' noise and pressed his lips together, as if he found it funny that she dared defy him. Before she could prepare herself he got up so fast and swung at her.

Her head whipped to the right. Riley remained still, staring at the cement, eyes blinking in shock, tears stinging. He struck her once more, the other side. A mixture of blood and saliva flew out of her mouth. Her nose was trailing blood.

Again. And Again. The flood from her nose was spilling backwards into her throat making her choke.

He cupped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze; "I asked you, nicely, to cooperate with us," that grin he wore had died, "and you tarnish that with foul language."

He hit her in the stomach. She sagged forward and he hit her again. The world was turning like a washing machine, dizziness settling in. She couldn't see straight, could not think, there were only pain and nausea and more pain.

"Please, stop!" She heard Murdock shout, he struggled in his chair.

"I'm not talking to you," Rob hissed at him. She groaned, unable to keep up the pretense that this wasn't agony. Her head hung low, and he tilted her face upwards again. "I'm telling you the truth," she mumbled, coughing. "You're wasting your time..."

"You know something," his nails dug into her chin, his mouth curling open viciously at her.

"I don't… I don't know who he is."

He released her chin and hit her. Black dots swam in her vision.

But he was done, he stepped back, unclenched his fists, his knuckles made a cracking noise, they were bloody. He squared his shoulders. That monster he was, was subdued back to the well-meaning businessman he was before he started to hit her. "I'd hate to beat it out of you. I suppose you're making this hard for both of us. I'll give you some time to think, and when I come back I want an answer. The truth, please."

* * *

 _Matt_

He had never been in so much pain. And he wasn't even the one physically in pain. When the veteran had ruthlessly hit Knight, again and again. He had heard her jaw click and unclick back into place multiple times, her skin splitting open like ripping fabric. The copper smell of her blood was tilting his axis in a millions different directions. She shouldn't be taking the brunt of this kidnapping…

Because this was his fault. Him putting on that suit, becoming Daredevil, was what led to this...too someone- his friend, no less, someone he did care about-being punched right in front of him for his mistakes. His choices.

He allowed Knight to recover for a minute, before asking her anything; "are you okay?" He asked gently and craned his head to her. His wrists were sore from his struggle against the rope. He wanted nothing more than to break out of them and tackle those two men to the ground, give them thrice the beating they had given the detective until they were a moaning pulp.

But he was useless. He couldn't do a goddamn thing.

He could've told them at that instant. _Stop, don't hit her, it's me, I'm him, I'm Daredevil. You can take me, not her._ But he kept his mouth shut. He had to be rational (at least that's what he wanted to call it). They could kill them both, or kill her. But if he had revealed the truth and by a miracle let them both go, then what? _What would she do? Arrest him?_ What would happen to both of them? _Would I have to leave New York?_ Would Rob and Jonah report them to their superiors and set a man hunt for both Murdock and Knight? For their friends and families?

No. He was a selfish son of a bitch. He had to keep his secret. Even if the cost of it was chipping his soul away, chunk by chunk.

She spat blood out; "I'm fine; I've taken beatings before."

He admired her for her resilience. His senses were intact despite being overrun in chloroform a few hours ago. The walls of the building were thick, a site that must have run out of funds to continue its construction. From the strength of the wind through the shuttered windows, they were around twenty floors above street level. There were a few cars outside; it must be close to midnight. He could hear their captors talking three stories below them.

"One of them is called Jonah, he's the lackey." Jonah was playing one of those mindless fruit games on his phone whilst smoking a cigarette. Rob, the one who had interrogated Knight was washing his hands of her blood.

" _You think she'll talk?…"_ asked Jonah to Rob in the hallway earlier, after locking them in.

" _Patience, Jonah, I'm telling you these cops have no resilience. She'll crack. We have to deliver to the boss."_

There was no breaking the lock from the inside. Jonah had the key but how they were going to steal it from him, he couldn't even begin to consider.

"Yeah I think he was the one who hit me first." She cracked her neck, groaning. His questions were not helping but he needed to know everything that was happening.

"Is the name familiar?"

"No, I don't recognize either of them."

"I didn't know the extent of your partnership with Daredevil," he started, careful not to slip up anything, "you've been working with him a lot." _I'm going to hell, aren't I?_

"Yeah, he's been around. Look where that got me…us," she said, bitterly.

"I've worked with him too. But neither of us deserves to be here," he sighed shakily; "you don't deserve to be punched in the face for any of this." The guilt was gnawing at his insides like a parasite.

"Tell that to them," she tilted her nose at the door, "I can't give them what they want."

"Do have anything at all?" He asked, meanwhile searching for any weaknesses in the walls.

"If I did, I'd implicate myself, and you."

 _Nothing, no vent system or dry wall to hit through, and even so, how and when can we get out of these ropes?_ He was tensing his arms and ankles trying to cause a fracture in the nylon. Stick had trained him to get out of bonds like these. But it was going to take time. Time they didn't have.

"Do you know anything about who he is?"

"I know about as much as you do. Although, I did manage to triangulate the area he may be based in."

There was a pang to his chest, "really? Did you try to look for him? Where he lives?"

"No, I stopped caring about trying to figure who he was. It didn't matter." She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, licking the blood from her teeth with the front of her tongue. "Okay, okay—there are four windows, two here, two in the adjoining room all are boarded up. There's only one exit. Can you move your hands?"

"Not really, but I think I could loosen the binds."

"We could try. So, there's just one light bulb above us, I can't spot anything sharp right now. We'll try this: shift the chair forward with your body weight and I'll push back."

He did as she suggested and they moved collectively a few centimeters forward in his direction. "It works."

She glanced at the window, "one of those windows must have a nail; I can get to it and set us free. Come on, now try to shift to your left. My right." They did so.

When their motion stopped he craned his neck enough to rest the back of his head against hers. "Knight. Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

She stopped too, she frowned, he could tell he'd offended her, "um, who says I'll do that?"

He had meant that she shouldn't lose her temper, or even try to bargain with their captors. He understood that she must feel obligated to save both of them. She was the cop, her motto was to serve and protect. He was technically the civilian. She had been trained to negotiate hostage situations. Where he was trained to convince a judge and jury of someone's innocence.

But he intended to uphold the promise he made when they were captured; to stay with her until they were both safe. Matt could not leave her alone. However, he failed at articulating how he felt in a way that didn't piss her off; "don't provoke him, don't swear at him—

"Are you serious?" She retorted, "What are you? My mother—?"

 _Fuck, why is this always the case with her?_ He shifted his chair forcefully, he didn't know how to make it any clearer to her that he didn't want her to do anything that could get her harmed even more; "I don't want you to get hit again, and I don't want to argue—"

"Yeah, and neither do I—"

The entrance to the room slammed open again. Once more his focus had been distracted by her, at the church and then here. The muscly one, Rob, whistled low when he saw them.

"Where do you two think you're going?" Rob voice drawled from the hallway as the door opened. He walked and gestured to Jonah, his lackey went to them and cut the ropes that joined their chairs back to back. There was still more rope around their respective chairs to keep them fastened to it.

Knight recoiled as Rob latched onto her forearms, his face inches from hers. Matt could smell his rancid cigarette breath blowing against her forehead; his rage expanded inside of him. Rob pulled her away from Matt's chair and Jonah did the same to Matt and then they were placed facing each other.

"There you go," remarked Rob, "thought you two might like to look upon each other's faces…well she can." He snorted at his unoriginal jibe at blind people, striding over to Matt. He snatched his glasses off and began inspecting them, "Never understood why blind people wore these."

Rob tossed them and smashed them with his boot, grinding them into the floor with a satisfied smirk.

His eyes were exposed now, he felt even more vulnerable. Matt's jaw tightened, he ground his teeth together as he tried to keep his cool, "I liked those glasses."

"You're going to bully a blind person, really?" Riley asked, her gaze narrowed at Rob. "That's pathetic." But there was an anxious inflection in her tone. There was no wounding this man's pride however. He would do as he pleased.

"Get off your high horse, detective. You are far from innocent; you have no place to judge." He smiled darkly at her, but it was gone just as quick. Rob's heartbeat was a steady pattern of _thud, thud,_ unperturbed by the circumstances. Kidnap and torture must bring him peace and elation, unlike the frantic machine gun firing of Riley or Matt's heart rate.

"That's true," she said, just as defiant of him as she was when he first visited them. _What are you doing, detective? "_ But why did you take him? He's not part of this. I am, not him."

He shook his head in incredulity. _Why can't she just listen to me, for once?_ Rob stood at an equal distance between both of their chairs, arms folded, looking back at forth at his prisoners, considering them. "I think he is part of this. He's representing a scum detective in the trial against Wilson Fisk. Somewhere, somehow he knows something too."

"I really don't," Matt piped up, failing to keep the sourness out of his tone, "neither of us do."

"Conspiring together now? How sweet of you two, to band together in this time of need." Rob approached Matt, "What do you think of police officers who associate themselves with vigilantes?"

"I wouldn't know, I've never come across one."

"But you must have an opinion, you're a lawyer. How about we put the detective to trial?" He suggested, intrigued and excited by his idea. "It'll be a fun little experiment. You tell me if you still think she's innocent after I lay down all the facts."

"I don't think I have choice," said Matt, gritting his teeth.

"Damn right," Rob paced between them. "Exhibit A; a pretty detective speaks to Travis Rowland telling him to let one of his runners off the hook. He doesn't want too, he shoos her away," Rob retold the story in a sing-song voice. "And then what do you know? Daredevil goes and rough's him up when the cop can't do it herself. What do you think counselor?" He asked Matt.

"A coincidence," Matt replied, it was clear he was to be the target of this phase of the interrogation, but it didn't matter, it was his turn to take the beating. _I would take all of them if it meant he didn't lay a hand on her again._ He was being protective, even if she didn't know it. "Doesn't mean they're working together."

"We just had to connect the dots. Besides, that's _one_ example. It happens, again and again. Coincidence you say? I highly doubt it."

Knight spat out more blood and saliva as a show of how idiotic she thought his 'exhibit A' was. It immediately took all of Rob's attention off Matt, which was the last thing Matt wanted. "You should put on a pink tutu and a sparkly wand since you like telling fairytales so much."

Rob took out an army knife from his pocket, it clicked open. "Smart-ass," he dashed towards her, Knight flinched as he rested the cool blade against her cheek. Terror snapped her spine straight. "You won't be talking so much when I slice your mouth open."

She kept herself as composed as possible despite her heart shuddering and her entire body shaking like a leaf. Knight stared at him directly in the eye; "You can do what you want to me, let him go."

 _Damn it._ Matt started to argue, "Knight—"

"Let him go?" Rob echoed, pressing the blade into her skin but not hard enough to cut it yet.

She winced but trudged on in her defense. "It sounds like you have things to settle with me, but not him. Let. Him. Go."

Rob removed the knife from her face and stepped away, but Matt noticed he did not put it back into his pocket. "We were just going to take you, but then we saw you had a date, so we thought why not? Raise the stakes a little, but then we saw who your date was… Matthew Murdock."

"He doesn't know anything."

"Oh?" Rob raised an eyebrow, "I think he does. I never doubt my instinct."

Rob's instinct was spot on in fact. It was almost laughable that he had figured out that both of them were involved with Daredevil. If only he took the step forward to figure out that Matt was the vigilante himself.

Their captor whirled back to Knight, putting the knife away. Matt breathed a sigh of relief that at least the weapon was out of the way. Although both of them were carrying guns.

Rob bent his knees, so his head was level with hers; "we'll try this again. Who is he? Where is he?"

"I don't know," she asserted.

He slapped her; it split a new cut on her lip. The droplets of blood sailed through the air. Matt closed his eyes; this was a nightmare, _a nightmare._

"Tell us the truth," Rob demanded of her.

She spat in his face. He slapped her again for that act of rebellion. Harder.

"Do you think he'll come to save you?" Rob held her face with one hand. "Would he save you? Does he think you're even worth it?" There was only grim silence from Knight. He retreated from her, "you stand by your ground as annoying as that is. I admire that. You don't care what we do to you," he gave an exasperated sigh. "You'd do anything to protect the people you care about. That's touching." Rob walked slowly towards Matt and stood behind his chair.

Matt took a sharp breath in, the muscle on the right side of his body tense violently as Rob passed.

"You know… the real reason we took Mr. Murdock too..." Rob yanked a fistful of Matt's hair, "was to give you…motivation."

He tightened his hold on Matt's head. His eyes were lit with anticipation. The knife made a reappearance. Knight strained against the binds. "Get away from him."

Rob knocked the side of the knife on the back of Matt's chair and held it to his ear; he heard the metal ringing infinitely through his skull and out his other ear. His entire body went cold as if he'd fallen into a lake of ice. "Do you hear it sing, the steel?" Rob whispered to him. Matt grasped the armrests with everything he had. It was the horror of anticipation that was the undoing of them both.

"Stop!" Knight yelled, her chair legs shaking madly against the ground as she struggled. Rob's grin widened.

He savagely jerked Matt's head back, "I don't think you need those eyes do you?" He said, he positioned the knife vertically, a direct line into Matts right eye. "They're useless anyway. Wouldn't make a difference if you lost one, or both, you'd look fucking hideous… but hey you'll have those glasses to wear won't you?" Rob whispered cruelly into his ear. The adrenaline put Rob's heart into a frenzied gallop, he was enjoying this immensely.

Matt winced and closed his eyes even though it was pointless too. The point of the blade was three inched above his eye. One plunge at that would be it. His eye socket could feel the presence of the steel, carving into his skull, popping an eyeball out, emptying it.

"Let him go!"

"Getting little defensive, now aren't we? You care so much don't you?" Rob pouted, "Are you two fucking? Is that it?" Rob pulled twice as hard on Matt's hair; some of the strands were plucked from his scalp. Matt was trying to shake Rob off but to no avail. He fixed his grip on the knife handle; "stay still Murdock, I don't want to miss."

"I don't know anything. I swear," Matt pleaded.

"You might not, but she does."

"Stop! Fuck! I'll talk! I'll talk! Let him go." She yelled at him.

Rob glanced up at her; "You ready to talk?"

"Yes, yes. I'll tell you what I know," she said, Rob released Matt completely. He trembled in his seat, gulping lungful's of air at the same time.

"I've met with him a few times, he tells me what he knows from working the streets," Knight told Rob. "He went after Travis on his own. That's it, that doesn't mean I know who he is. Don't you think I want to figure that out myself?" It was the partial truth.

"You have a good point there, detective," he pointed the knife at her to ironically put an empathises on that statement. "But 'I meet him in passing' that's not going to cut it."

"Come on," she slumped in her chair, imploringly. But then she tried different tactic; "Who—who are you working for huh? You must answer to someone—"

"So you understand, I have to deliver," Rob placed a hand on his chest. "And neither of you are helping me at all!" He growled at them.

"What gang? Mmhm? What, what mafia, tell me. I don't want to deal with you, you get your boss."

"And what?" He howled in laughter. "He's not going to be fooled by any con you have, _Jen Murphy,"_ Rob said sardonically. "So you are going to have to deal with me. I need a real answer, detective."

She shook her head, "please, I told you—I—"

Rob pointed at Jonah and then Matt. And he knew what was coming.

The first hit was surprisingly strong for such a thin guy. Half of his head rung like a ceaseless dial tone. Two more blows came after. One explosion of white light after another. _Smack. Smack. Smack._

Knight was screaming. He wasn't sure. He was disoriented, no sense of the temperature, wind direction, his bearings a flurry of light bulbs flashing and then dying out. His mouth was filled with blood. _I got what I wanted at least; he's not hitting her._

Then Jonah picked up a short iron rod off the floor, he chucked it between his hands, and Matt got an estimate of its weight. But he only heard it swoosh before it collided into his ribs.

The wind was knocked out of him as if he'd crashed into a concrete wall. He doubled over, as much as he could. He was still strapped with his spine straight as an arrow against the chair. His ribs were on fire. He couldn't breathe; all the air had been pummeled out of him. Twice more it happened. He tasted blood and bile in his mouth, stinging and sour. _Whack. Whack…_

Finally, mercifully, he was done. But he'd been robbed of his breathing. Matt's other senses were dulled, virtually cancelled out by the endless sea of pain radiating from his chest and head.

Because he couldn't leave her untouched. Rob took out his knife and went to the detective. She saw it, "no, no," she begged breathlessly. She fought, backing into her chair, but it was futile, she had nowhere to go. He ripped the first four buttons of her shirt open. He rested the sharp end along her left collarbone.

It's bite was red, the knife sliced along the bone, agonizingly slow; the speed was what made it worse. She couldn't hold back the scream as he did it.

Blood poured out of the wound. "That was for attempting to escape, and also for lying to me, I'll give you more if you continue to do so." He wiped the knife on his shirt and put it back where it belonged. "You've both felt the consequences of your lies. I'll let you two stew on it for a bit, and then come back. Hopefully your memory will be refreshed by then, and your boyfriend will still have both his eyes."

* * *

 _Riley_

She bit down on her lip, holding back her a cry of pain. She looked down at the wound, proud, fleshy, raw and cherry red, her entire chest was awash in blood from it, as the old layer dried, a fresher coat dripped over it.

"Murdock…oh my God," he was limp in his chair, she couldn't see his face. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," he mumbled after a dreaded minute. _He's not dead, thank God._

"Those fucking bastards..." she winced as the wound stung sending a bolt of pain up her neck and done her arm, "I'm going to fucking kill them."

"Don't—"

"What?"

"Don't kill them," he croaked, voice raw and hoarse. They must have fractured a few ribs, but he wasn't showing the signs of a punctured lung.

"They have to pay for this," she tried to pull against the rope, it was loosening a tad bit but not enough to make a difference. She took a longer look at Murdock, there was dried blood on the corner of his mouth and his hairline. She knew his chest would be a motley coat of purple and black. It tore her up that he was their punching bag. "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, "no.."

"It doesn't matter what I say, Murdock. They want me to give them a name, which I don't have."

He grimaced, "It's…it's not your fault."

"You're right it's not. It's Daredevil's," she said, indignantly. "He's the one who came to me first. It's his fucking fault. We're the ones sacrificing our lives for him."

He pulled a pained expression, "Knight...we should just focus on getting out. You said the windows were boarded up."

Murdock was right. She had to use her remaining energy to realign her priorities. "I'm going to move my chair to the tarp, see if there's any tools left behind," she shifted it to her right. "Do you think he knows?"

"What do you mean?"

"That we were kidnapped?"

Murdock gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down nervously, he was sweating buckets too. "I have no clue."

"The moment these guys get what they want. They'll kill us both." She snorted, derisively, "do you know what's the most fucked up thing about this?"

"What?"

She shifted closer to the tarp, it was almost at her feet. "He won't bother saving us."

"Who won't? Daredevil?"

"I got into a fight with him last night, told him to keep his shit to himself and to stay out of mine." And he must have truly taken that to heart. Was he somewhere out in the city purposely ignoring them as they endured this torture?

Murdock swallowed, "why..why did you say that?"

"Because he had no right," she replied, tersely. "It..it wasn't the time to discuss that. Anyway, if he doesn't come, then he's gotten rid of two people who could've ratted him out in the future. Win, win for Daredevil. Lose, lose to the cop and lawyer."

He shook his head disagreeing, with her vehemently, "it must be more complicated than that, he can't be everywhere at once. It's not like that, I'm, I'm sure..."

"But we're just not anyone, or…I thought I wasn't." Their missions were successful, despite the fact that they had been kidnapped by two thugs for her association with him. Crimes were being solved, there was justice, she was starting to heal from her past to believe in something again. But it was ripped from her grasp once more. "In the end we're just his pawns. Although I have no place to say something like that. I-I agreed to it, I did, and he was useful. Fucking hell..." she let out a short bitter laugh, "now look what I did myself."

Matt laughed too, but there was no humour in it.

It occurred to her that she didn't understand his reaction to it, in fact he should be yelling and her for being an goddamn idiot for getting him into this, for getting him beat up. She was the one who went through him to get to Daredevil anyway. This was her comeuppance, he shouldn't be telling her it wasn't her fault when it entirely was. "What the hell is so funny to you?" She asked, baffled.

"Nothing," he shot back scathingly, but to himself or to her? He titled his head away from her. It was more like was talking to himself. "I just—my head, is-it's fucked; it's all really fucked up."

She kicked the tarp and saw a hammer, it shone like some miracle from God. "There's a hammer. Yes!" She could have burst into tears of joy then. "Okay, I'm going to have to tip the chair over and reach for it."

"They'll hear that," Murdock warned her, his attention returned to escaping this hellhole.

She licked her lips, gearing herself up for the fall. She would try to land as close to it as possible, get it in her hand, use it to either make a hole beneath the rope or to tear at it. "I have to try."

She gave him a quick glance. He was pressing his mouth open and shut, as if he was coming to terms with something. She had never seen him so despondent. Indeed they were being held captive and tortured but it seemed like he was reaching a breaking point. She couldn't have him panic and lose his mind, she was already panicking herself. There was no other way to say, 'I have to lead a blind man away from two kidnappers, without killing him, myself or both of us' without her heart, her stomach, dropping into a gaping dark pit inside of her.

There was a grave look on his face, as serious as cancer.

"Riley," he started. Oddly she noted that it was the first time he ever said her first name.

"What?"

"I'm—," he stammered. There was something brimming deep beneath the surface, she could tell. Like a frozen lake with a geyser seconds to burst from it. It went beyond physical pain, though that was still significant. There was a demon eating at him, and it looked like remorse.

"I need to tell you something."

* * *

 _Apologies for any mistakes, I edit these myself so I sometimes don't catch things the first time. Thanks for stopping by guys! Please, review, fav, or follow for more! I've got the next chapter in editing so expect it soon :))_


	19. Chapter 19

_Thanks so much for the kind reviews. Enjoy :)_

* * *

 _Riley_

"I don't know if you'll understand," he continued, unable to form words around his thoughts. "What I'm about to tell you."

"Yeah? What?" She said, not really following him. She could feel the knot just over her wrist, she could shove the hammer through it and it would widen enough to slip her hand out.

"I'm—" he stopped, took a noticeable swallow. She lost her patience then.

"Murdock—," it was bizarre to even call him by his first name, but she supposed at this stage, worse comes to worst they might be greeting the bitter end together, formalities be damned. "Matt," she said, settling into it, her tongue feeling weird saying it, "Matt—whatever you want to talk about can it wait? I have to get back to this okay?"

With that she started to swing her chair to the right. She landed on the tarp, dust flew up from it. The crash rocked a wave of pain across her. Tears stung her eyes. She was on her side and she fumbled for the hammer, "I almost got it." Riley scratched at the handle and positioned it to be aligned with the binds and slipped it between the gap.

She moved her wrist more; the threads of the rope were wearing down her skin. She kept at it and moved the claw to widen the gap between the rope and armrest. She wiggled some more and it started to give.

"Yes, yes," she said, overjoyed.

Her hand was free; she let out a trembling breath, took the hammer and used the claw to pull at the left bind. That one was easier. Next she got rid of the one around her chest and worked on her ankles, aware that any minute their captors could walk in.

Before she knew it, she was standing again, or a version that appeared like it. She hunched over as the bruise on her stomach made itself known. Grunting, she stumbled over to Murdock. "I got it."

"Thank God," he exhaled, "hurry." She worked on his ankles as he did his other hand. Finally he was free too. He stood on wobbly legs.

He hissed and lost his footing, he fell forward and she caught him in her arms. But unexpectedly for either of them, it turned into something more, an embrace. She hugged him close. He didn't hold as tightly as she did because of his condition but his fingers bunched up the back of her shirt. Physical contact with someone who wasn't their kidnappers filled her with a warm burst of light. She buried her face into his neck, "we're... we're fine," she said cutting the hug short.

"Follow my instructions, we are getting the hell out of here."

She led him to a window. "Stand here, start grabbing the planks and try to loosen one, there's another window five steps to your right. I'm going to try in the adjoining room and inspect the door."

She circled the room. There was nothing lying around to open the door from their side. She went to a window and used the claw of the hammer to pull at a nail.

"This one," Murdock called her over. He'd managed to find a window where all the nails were looser. She helped him remove the plank. The wind started kissing their cheeks as they removed the next one. Riley saw the buildings blinking gold lights, the night sky was a hazy deep blue; she had never appreciated the sight of it more than she did in that moment.

There was a rusted window cleaning lift outside that looked about as stable as a deck of cards. But it would have to suffice. She explained it to him. The ledges were wide enough to make it easy to climb onto the lift to take them to another floor. But the height was nothing to scoff at. The descent was straight down two hundred feet. They would make a bloody mess on the pavement if either of them lost their balance.

With that less than encouraging thought she spoke to Murdock; "I'll go out first and then you give me your hands and I'll help you out too."

Riley climbed out and balanced herself tenuously on the ledge. Then she hooked her leg around the railing of the lift and planted two feet on it. Her feet tingled as she looked at the holes in the grate. She instructed Murdock to do the same whilst she kept a hand on his back, to grab onto his jacket in case he accidentally launched himself in the wrong direction. The wind was howling like a ghost, stirring his hair.

"I need you turn where you are now and I can pull you in, there's enough space on the ledge," she was holding onto him tightly, "do you trust me?"

"I do."

There was nothing but air beneath him, but he rearranged his footing to face her and not the room. "Now hold onto this," she held his hand and guided it to a pulley. The wind rocked the lift, her heart shuddered but they were still intact. He was doing really well so far. She hooked her arms beneath his and pulled him in with her.

He was heavy and it put a strain on her wound that made her see black for a second. But they were both in one piece.

"Now what?" He asked. She found the controls and set it to down. The lift hinges squealed and croaked, yawning as it started to move downwards, story after story. It seemed that they were making a miraculous escape when Murdock's face said otherwise.

"Wait, Knight—"

She was going to ask him what the issue was when he tripped on nothing and collided with her. At the exact same time a bullet soared and punctured the grate she had been standing on. She looked up; Rob and Jonah were at the window they had fled through, unloading their guns on them.

They ducked and she stopped the lift at a floor that had no walls, it was only cement and iron foundations. "Come with me!" She took Murdock's hand and led him to the little gate at the end of the lift, she opened it. "We have to jump."

She licked her lips, took a deep breath, crouched and hurled them through space. They lay on the hard ground panting; she rolled over and staggered to her feet. Murdock grimaced, doubling over in pain; specks of red flew from his mouth as he coughed, his breaths were short and sharp. _His lung._ There was no time to deal with this right now. Rob and Jonah would be on them soon.

"Shit, we have to keep going."

He nodded hastily. She held onto Murdock's hand as if he was her oxygen tank and she would die without him.

"Come on!" She ran with him trailing behind her. Only the frail, thin moonlight gave her any indication of which direction to go. "Let's try this way," Murdock suggested pulling her hand back. The level was not sanctioned off into rooms yet, but there were large foundations laid out and a vast network of beams and tarps. There was pounding on the stairs far off to her left hand side. It was a good call for him to make. He was full of surprises.

"Get them!" She heard Rob. They shot at them. Murdock halted suddenly, "what are you doing?" She demanded, and before she knew it Jonah crashed into him. Murdock was trying to fight him off; they rolled into a maze of tarp and iron supports. Jonah's gun was left behind on the ground.

"Fuck!" She caught the sight of Rob in her peripheral, she ducked, seized the discarded gun and hid behind a foundation. Her other hand still had the hammer and she hooked it onto her belt. She shot at him from her spot.

 _I have to get back to Matt._ Rob and her traded bullets. It was bad idea to stay in one place as he drew closer and closer, stalking her from one beam to the next.

Riley slid along the cool, grey cement to somehow corner him from behind. She whirled and aimed but he wasn't there.

And then from her left, with a feral cry he charged at her, firing. She dashed to safety. Her gun was out of bullets already. She swore and tossed it. There was a metal rod by her feet. There was no time to worry about Murdock, she had to get herself safe first and then find him. She hefted it and waited for Rob to draw closer.

* * *

 _Matt_

Jonah was on top of him. They were rolling in a closed area, sectioned off by tarps. There was an elevator shaft nearby. Without thinking Matt easily blocked a punch aimed at his cheek.

"What the fuck?" Jonah exclaimed, mouth a big 'O'. Matt could hear the sucking sounds his lung was making as the broken rib dug into it. He had to get rid of this piece of shit and get back to her, get them both to a hospital. It was too late to pretend that what Jonah had seen was a mistake. Knight was fighting Rob somewhere else, they were out of view, and now, Matt could be Daredevil.

He swung his legs up and clamped Jonah's neck between them, throwing him off. Matt deftly leapt to his feet the move made him wheeze but he was past carefully crafting his every move. This was the time for him to charge on past the pain, and fight.

"I wasn't what you expected was it?"

Jonah blinked at him perplexed, fists a weak form as he was trying to come to terms with what he was seeing. Matt used that to his advantage and charged him. Jonah woke from whatever daze he had been in. He was skinny and fleet-footed. Matt jumped kicked and twisted in the air, sending him sprawling. There were metal rods by his feet, he pressed on its end and sent it up into the air, he caught it with his hand and smiled wickedly at the kid.

It was time to get pay back.

Jonah blocked a swing but an opening let Mat ram it into his ribs. Jonah whined, clutching his stomach, he backed into a sheet of tarp. Matt flicked the rod in a flurry of arches pretending it was his Billy club. He pulled one side of the tarp down and swatted Jonah across the temple. He got wrapped in the tarp and fell backwards into the open elevator shaft. His scream echoed on his descent, becoming thinner and thinner. He only fell one story. Didn't break anything important.

And effectively got him out of the way.

He stumbled back out of the maze. That pain in his chest had a sudden onset before, but it was more prominent then. He went to his knees, tasting the blood coming up his throat. He went to find Knight and Rob, nails scratching on the cement as he pulled himself foot-by-foot, crawling to them.

* * *

 _Riley_

She leapt from her hiding and used the metal to swipe his feet off the ground. He fell with a loud grunt, she thrust downwards at his spleen but he rolled away from her, getting to his feet. They circled each other like boxers in a ring.

"We're going to get you back into that chair, and I'm going to get Murdock back in his." She could hear the grin in his voice, a dangerous white glimmer in his eye. "Since he can't see, I've decided to shove my knife down his throat, and cut off his ears so he can never speak again, or hear you scream when we kill you."

"How creative of you," she spat.

She dashed at him first. She held her own intitially, but then he met her hammering blows by dodging them or taking them with ease as if she was hitting him with pebbles and not a piece of metal. It occurred to her she had no fucking clue how to fight with a staff like they did in kung-fu movies. This was far from her comfort zone. But it was the only weapon she had short of swinging the hammer at Rob. Although when she went to check her belt the hammer had fallen off, lost somewhere.

"I'm going to make you regret living. Regret siding with that vigilante," he stopped one of her downward blows and pushed her off, she staggered rearwards.

The snarl ripped through her throat; "not if I end you first."

He rushed her, she misjudged the direction he was coming at and drove the rod into emptiness. He took hold of it and she knew it was time to let go. Riley squatted down, but not quick enough to prevent herself from getting whacked in the side.

She slid away as fast as she could but she wasn't always fast enough to miss its rapid arches. _My body is failing me_. Her breaths were become more labored, wearing her down. She wasn't fit enough for this. Her body was not at the state it was before the Fisk incident.

 _No, no, not now, I refuse to die, not now._

She coughed after the latest hit, trying to replace the breaths that had been stolen from her. Seeing that she was weak enough, Rob lobbed the rod aside, taking out his favorite knife. The steel glinted in the moonlight, a tiny star at the tip of it. He ploughed it through the air coming closer to her.

She scurried this way and that but he was close enough at one point to punch her in the gut, pain blossomed from there but she had no time to react properly. She head-butted him and threw a right hook. He stumbled backwards but he recovered then hurtled towards her again.

This time she was able to throw him off her shoulder but it had been the wrong shoulder, with the sliced up collarbone. The pain blinded her for a split second too long. Rob was on her, her back slamming into the floor. His knife was over her head. She had her hands around his wrist, stopping it mid-air. They fought for control of it. He was so much stronger. She screamed, she could feel her arms about to buckle.

 _This is it, this is the end._

At of the corner of her eyes she swore she saw Murdock, he was stumbling to her trying not to fall on his butt. She saw the silver hammer at his feet. She was about to call out for it, when his foot came into contact with it and kicked it to her.

Astonished, amazed, confused.. her mind was shattering with a hundred different emotions. Yet, none of it mattered then.

The hammer was within her grasp. She took hold of it and swung it at Rob's neck. It embedded itself into his jugular. The claw was hooked into his skin, the wooden handle and nub hanging out. He was shocked, dropped the knife next to her head. Hot blood sprayed on her face. Riley shoved her off him.

He was on his back, choking, sputtering dark red liquid from his mouth. It was occurring to him as every second passed that he was dying. Riley could only watch in silent alarm.

She turned over unable to bear watching it a second more. She tried to stand but her legs felt weak, damnably weak. She lifted her head to see Murdock breathing rapidly, harsh and low, the coughs were wracking through him. She let out a sharp gasping breath, holding her stomach, blood came away on her hand. She stared at her shirt, it was plastered to her skin, bright red. She wasn't going to be able to reach him. She collapsed to her knees with a soft sound of agony.

Her head felt like it was flying off her shoulders, floating away. One hand flattened on the ground, a dark smear left on it. She could feel a rumbling of what she wanted to believed were footsteps, a few of them, fast approaching. She looked to Murdock, he was lying on the ground. The white light of a flashlight blinded her, and she swore she saw Alfonso behind it. His mouth said Riley but she didn't hear any sound coming out of it, there was only the blood rushing to her ears. Then she was lying down on her back too, she could see the deep blue sky.

She blinked and then there was nothing.

* * *

 _Matt_

He lay motionless just beneath the surface of consciousness as distant voices carried over him like the sighing of wind. He tried to latch onto them, the half-words, the half-sentences but they kept fading to black. There was a dull, aching pain in his chest. Sometimes it was bearable, other times it was piercing but always fixed on one spot.

He didn't know how he had managed to maintain the charade. He was the world's greatest actor; _seriously someone needs to give me an Oscar_. No doubt there had been a hundred other things to take Knight's attention from him-like a murderous hitman. Hopefully she wouldn't over-analyze the peculiar way he acted and the life-saving flukes; pushing her when the bullet came, suggesting they go in the direction opposite from their captors, kicking that hammer to her as if he'd 'stumbled' on it.

 _There's a special place in hell for me._ He had faith in God's mercy for things to go opposite in the afterlife for him. But how last night-or whenever that night had been- had escalated and then descended into the worst possible outcome, he didn't think he deserved anyone's mercy. Definitely not hers.

 _It was the correct decision to make,_ he told himself whenever his mind fell into the gutter. The cycle of blaming himself. When he remembered Rob's knife grating against her skin. Then later on the wet squelch of the steel sinking into her.

 _She's not dead._ He told himself. _She's not dead._

But if she was, God forbid, he was never going to be able to forgive himself.

The voices above him were getting louder, but they still came and went as they pleased, drifting away from him. He swore he heard Foggy and Karen, but they disappeared too. He felt as if he was rising through a soft grey fog. Groaning, head feeling like it was going to split open, Matt opened his eyes.

There was no Foggy, no Karen, and no Knight. He was in the hospital. The familiar chemical scent of scrubs and disinfectant was an unkind reminder of the chloroform he'd been forced to inhale not so long ago. He wasn't alone, a nurse stood at his bedside, greeting him with a smile he could not see, but still appreciated.

"Hello Mr. Murdock, how do feel?"

His senses were coming back all at once, it was overwhelming; the beep of the monitor machines, the drip of the IV line, the whirring of the AC unit outside his window. He sighed, already wishing to go back to sleep, "terrible."

"You've been asleep for four days." She told him the date, and the time, it was nearly 11 pm and past visiting hours.

She explained to him that he had fractured a few ribs, had suffered a concussion and pneumothorax. That piercing feeling he had dreamed of was a chest drain inserted between his intercostals. _Sounds like another night of being Daredevil,_ although that was not the case in this instance. How could he have been out for four whole days? _Painkillers, they must be the culprit._

"Those scars on your chest are a bit concerning," she commented, flipping through his chart.

"I fell through a window a long time ago," he lied and licked his chapped lips.

"And you landed yourself back in here, after a road traffic accident not even a month ago," she went on, skeptical.

"I have a penchant for getting myself hurt I guess." _Understatement of the century._

"Mmhm."

"Were my friends here?"

"Yes they were. The police will come by in the morning to take a statement from you." That part of this mess had escaped him completely.

Then came the dreaded question; "I came in with Riley Knight? How is she?"

"Stab wound to the abdomen, she's fine though, resting. No surgery required." Even though his chest throbbed he still managed a deep sigh of relief. _She's not dead, she's not dead._

"What about the men, the ones who took us?"

"I'm sorry I don't have that information for you. You'll find out more in the morning. I suggest you get some more rest until then."

He settled into the bed, his senses were numbed but he had control over them now. He was exhausted but he had to figure out where she was. He sifted through the different scents and sounds awake in the ward.

He found her, she was still fast asleep seven rooms down from him.

* * *

 _Riley_

She stared at the digital clock on the wall. It was 3:00am. She would have rolled over and groaned into her pillow but the monitor and IV drips hooked to her didn't allow that. She was still on a strong dose of painkillers, yet she was unable to lull herself into any sleep.

 _I land myself back in this ward yet again,_ she thought, annoyed.

She pushed herself up on the sheets. Alfie and her brother had been here during visiting hours but she was still out of it then. She'd been out for four days, _four days where the world continued on without me, four days I could have used to find the sons of bitches that sicced Rob and Jonah on me_.

The nurse told her to go back to sleep several hours ago, but she had been restless. She was itching to do everything else but close her eyes. The nurse only informed her that the police would come by to get statements from her. She didn't have a story yet that didn't end with her in handcuffs.

She needed closure first before anything else.

She was done with wasting her time. No matter how injured she was. She unhooked her IV drip line. If Gale was around she was going to get an earful of a disapproving speech from her.

Riley slid from the bed, her legs turned to jelly beneath her, the room spun, and she had to grasp the bed railing to keep herself from pitching headlong into the lino floors.

There was a cut on her left collarbone and a matching stab wound on the same side (the latter being the worst of the two). The painkillers made them feel numb but also as if she was anchored by a brick there. Tenderly holding onto her stomach, she tiptoed outside with controlled steps, careful not to tear her stitches. The on call nurse wasn't at her desk. She glanced up and down the long ward.

Soon enough she found the room where Murdock was staying.

Hospital rooms were never dark enough to sleep in, not that it bothered someone like him. There was only the fluorescent light from the hallway and the moon outside. It felt as if that night from hell had never ended. She'd passed out and woken up when it was dark outside, she'd yet to see daylight.

 _He's okay;_ she breathed a sigh of relief, _and he's still here_.

He turned his head to the door, "hello?" He called, probably hearing her standing there.

She was anxious to speak to him; "hey Murdock, it's Knight."

"Oh, hey..." he sat up in his bed, she shuffled in. "What time is it?"

"Ten past three in the middle of the night."

He smiled tiredly, he didn't have his glasses on, _and he'll have to buy a new pair._ "What are you doing roaming the halls?"

"Hoping to get caught."

He snickered. He was wearing a hospital gown like hers, white with small blue dots. She was glad she was wearing underwear when she woke up.

"Actually I was looking for you, I'm just—I am so happy that you're okay," she sat down at the end of his bed.

"Me?" Murdock guffawed, pointing at himself. "I heard you were stabbed, you shouldn't be here, you should be recovering."

Exhaustion could have pulled her back to sleep right then and there, but it was not as persistent as the nagging feeling inside of her. "I'm fine; I have enough morphine circulating in me to keep me in a delightful mood to visit you."

"Are you… okay though?"

"I don't remember much after-Rob, after Rob stabbed me," she said, she noticed her hands were trembling. She crossed her arms. _I killed him._ Sometimes she dreamed about the blood spurting out of his neck.

"How long have you been out for?" She asked him.

"Four days they told me, my lung collapsed."

"Did Nelson and Ms. Page visit you?"

"They did apparently. But I had no idea."

"I had to see you before you were discharged or something," she said, looking down at her hands. _Does he hate me? He should, after what I put him through, but he seems so normal._

"Do you know what happened?"

"I guess Fitzgerald or Alfonso must have realized I was missing and tracked us down when the police car didn't return at night. I vaguely remember seeing Fitz... or Alfie? It's still really blurry. What happened to Jonah?"

It was too soon to discuss, too fresh. The names were like Rob's slaps to her face striking her again. "He fell I think, we were rolling and I was trying to get him off of me, then suddenly he wasn't there anymore." She'd stupidly not seen Jonah bulldoze into Murdock.

 _I should write a book entitled a million ways to get someone killed._

"As long as it wasn't you," said Riley. "Rob almost had me, but I just remember the hammer appearing near my fingers somehow and—" He was concentrating on her as she spoke.

She did not feel comfortable telling him outright that she had killed someone. Riley already had so much to beg his forgiveness for and to ask him to not judge her wrongly, or to see her in a different light felt like too high of a request.

"—and I did what I had too," she finished. Hoping to leave it at that for good.

"I've been asking every nurse what happened and no one knows anything. They're telling me to wait till morning for the police."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," she began hesitantly. Her stomach filling with dread. "They'll want a statement. They're going to ask why those two men took us. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. You have every obligation to go to the police and tell them what I've done, everything I've done. I'm not here to threaten you, or force you to make a false statement."

"You want me to tell the police that you're working with him?"

"You weren't really a part of any of this, you won't be implicated. It was all me." They'd come to that point in their relationship beyond banter; quick-wits and competitiveness no longer mattered. The gritty, real stuff did. He was a man of integrity and she did not want to stop him from being that person.

He shook his head; "Riley, I won't say anything either."

She stared at him, her thoughts in disarray. This was not what she had anticipated. "You won't?"

"I'll tell them I was with you when those two men _suspected_ you were working with Daredevil, and took us. That's the truth isn't it? There's nothing beyond that."

"You would… lie for me?" She asked cautiously.

"If I didn't think that you and Daredevil weren't capable of doing something worthwhile by not fighting each other than I would never set up the meeting. I wouldn't want you to get into trouble for that. Never."

"Matt—I'm sorry," she said, interlocking her fingers. "I am so, so sorry for everything. Out of everyone in my life you were the only who really knew about it, I tried to keep you uninvolved but then you got pulled into this anyway."

"No Riley, don't be sorry. It's not your fault. You got us out of there; I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you. Why are you discounting that?"

"You wouldn't be in this _position_ if it wasn't for me. I should never have cornered you that day, all those months ago. Look at where we are, look at what happened to you." Riley gestured to his general state. "Jesus. There's something inherently wrong with me, isn't there? I made an agreement with someone, someone I didn't know, whom I couldn't trust, and it backfired. And you got in harms way."

Watching Jonah hit him, break his ribs, his gasps for air, it was too much. "I told you about Sweeney- and by the way I have a gut feeling that he was behind this, I can't prove it yet. Anyway, the last thing you wanted was to be put in danger, you told me that. And then we were fucking kidnapped."

He exhaled, "I know I did."

"I'm going to end whatever partnership I have with him," she declared nodding in affirmation. It was the best course of action to take.

 _No more people close to me getting hurt, no more terrible decisions._

He looked worried; "are you sure that's what you want?"

"He wasn't there when we needed him. And this has already escalated beyond what I can handle." _I was prepared to work with him, but to die for him? Not a fucking chance._

As before, Murdock came to his defense, she didn't like it; "You don't know what he was doing, you don't—I-I can't think of any other excuses," he gave up.

"And it doesn't matter. I did this to keep people close to me safe. And you are my friend, and it still didn't work. So I think it is probably a wise decision to make. That's all."

He sighed deeply. "Okay. Whatever you think is best."

She puffed out a long breath. That had been an intense conversation; "Anyway, um, I'm glad you're safe now." Riley rested her hand over his.

She was certain she had already told him that, but she genuinely had expected him to turn her into the authorities come sunrise. She was thankful that he wasn't going too.

"And I'm glad you are too," he replied, unexpectedly he turned his hand over to hold hers properly. His fingers were calloused. _Strange,_ _for someone who works at a desk majority of the time._

They remained like that for a bit. It was a flashback to the moment she released him from his binds and they hugged. There was no dusty room, with dried blood and a single light bulb, just them, two people, with whole hearts, breathing, and grateful to be alive.

"What do you say; when someone's not trying to poke my intestines and put holes in your lungs-" the joke was morbid but he was snickering anyway"-I take you up on that drink? I won't have anything alcoholic myself, but I'd be happy enjoy a diet coke with you, in a bar."

He snorted, rested his head against his pillow, "that'd be nice."

 _Maybe I can actually have normal friendships._ She removed her hand from his, a smile sneaking itself onto her lips.

"You wanted to tell me something back then… your face it just- it felt like it was important, the moment wasn't right. Do you remember what it was?" She asked him, curiosity getting the best of her.

Whatever pleasant feeling he had been exuding, disappeared fast. There was that look again, clear as day, no pain from a beating or knife wound to distract her thoughts; his look of gut wrenching guilt. He pressed his lips together, then opened his mouth—

"Excuse me miss!" A nurse stormed into the room, cross and huffing as if she'd been running around the hospital looking for their missing patient. She took hold of Riley by her arm. "Get back to your room."

"M'am he's trying to tell me something important."

"Get back to your room, miss. _Now."_

"Fine. Jeez."

She lightly brushed her fingers down Matt's arm, smiling. "See you around Murdock, and thanks."

...

When she woke the next morning, Tommy visited her first, he was goofy and in high spirits because he had a date with a girl from the NA meetings. It was nice to see him move on. She told him what was the basic truth of what happened. She also did the same when Fitzgerald and Alfie stopped by. It sufficed for the report. People would gossip, but she earnestly believed other cops had interacted with Daredevil before too. She 100% knew Mahoney had. _It could have been any of us. Not just me._ And since she had contributed to the formation of the anti-vigilante task force she couldn't _possibly_ be working with any kind of vigilantes in the city.

 _I can con criminals and police officers too, God, I lie my path through life don't I?_ She knew she'd dodged a major bullet there. Somehow Murdock believed that she deserved a second chance not to fuck up. He was on her side. Gale told her he was discharged today but she would need to stay for at least another night.

 _This partnership is over._ She had done it to protect Tommy at the start. But it had morphed into something beyond her initial intentions to protect her family. She should have stopped it then, but couldn't resist it, the thrill of it, getting to the criminals she normally would have had to go through a sluggish system already full of loop holes.

Besides, she was too monumentally pissed at Daredevil to work with him anymore.

She was eating her dinner on the tray in front of her. It was late afternoon and she was watching a news report giving an update on the Avengers. _They really don't consider what happens to the little guys like me when cities get destroyed._ Daredevil was exactly like them, and she had ignored the signals for too long. She had almost died because of a situation relevant to him.

She was done.

There was a clip of the alien spacecraft hovering between skyscrapers during the Battle of New York. She shivered remembering the carnage of that day. _Anything is possible._

Father Lathom walked into her ward. She was pleasantly surprised to see him.

"Father?"

He was going to walk right past when he heard her; "Detective," his gaze widened when he saw her, "Oh my goodness, what happened?"

"Ah, I got roughed up real bad pastor."

"I'm so sorry."

"I signed up for it really. I've learnt that I'm a magnet for trouble."

"All in a days work I suppose," he didn't look too happy with that though, "you're winding up here a little too often for my taste, though."

"I've grown to enjoy hospital food though, so it's not all bad," she said wryly, running her fork through the bland casserole they served her. "What are you doing here?"

"The patient on bed number six," he indicated the family on the bed besides hers. "I know the family."

"You should go see them, they look like they're waiting for you."

"I should. I pray that you'll make a speedy recovery Ms Knight," he said with a kind smile.

"Thank you."

Riley couldn't take another bite of the casserole and decided to just go for the chocolate pudding. Just as she was about to open the metal foil of the pudding cup, she heard bits of the Father's mini-sermon to the family from the other side of the curtain;

"…Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will,'" his levelled, pacific voice told the concerned family. The teenage boy next to her had nearly lost a leg after a motorcycle accident, _I suppose he needs a lesson from the pastor to stop acting out. A serenity prayer would set him straight—_

She froze. Her blood went cold. Electricity streaking down her spine. Riley snatched her phone and yelled at Alfie to email her a few police reports. She read them all with lightning speed.

She searched for the article about the Man in the Mask from The Bulletin. The night he had beaten up two cops whilst remaining handcuffed. She stared at the picture, she felt like how one felt before a big exam, you think you forget everything and then suddenly recall kicks in and you just know the answer.

She closed her eyes to envision the article, the memories, the countless subtle mannerisms. They spoke volumes to her then. The gym where she fixed his right hook… the hammer sliding into her hand just when she needed it. His injured leg... the placement of his bruises.

She had always felt it in the back of her head, a gut feeling she _should_ have listened too, but could not confront. Everything became clearer than she had ever seen it in years. _Anything is possible._

She pulled out the IV lines, pushed the tray table aside, and hopped out of the hospital bed. The pain did not stall her for a second. She stumbled to the window and clamped her fingers onto the edge of it, breathing hard.

She knew two things then;

One. She had to get the hell out of the hospital.

Two. Matt Murdock was Daredevil.

* * *

 _Are you screaming? Cause I am. My intention was to always have Riley figure it out for herself, because hello? She's Detective Knight xx_


	20. Chapter 20

_Matt_

He lifted his shirt and ran his fingers over the bandages on his torso. He was still undecided about going on patrol that evening. What happened with Knight was still bothering him. It had been an ironically fucked up situation.

He understood that associating herself with Daredevil had put her in danger, and she would want to take the necessary precautions. But she presumed Daredevil had abandoned her for the wrong reasons. He'd never been upset at her after she yelled at him to mind his own business. They had both been sorting through the muddle after the Reeding case and she got agitated when he broached the topic.

He knew she was uncomfortable discussing how she killed Rob. But that was moral self-defense. He could let it pass. It was going to be tricky to stay out of each others cross hairs if they were going after the same gangs. He had been waiting for her to contact Daredevil to meet, but the burner had no new calls or voicemails. _Or is she waiting for Daredevil to call instead? But there's no point is there. She just thinks he's a heartless son of a bitch anyway._

She'd come to him last night pleading for his forgiveness and allowing him to do whatever he thought was right, even if that meant handing her over to the authorities. She didn't want him to bury the truth, but he forgave her and did it anyway, said he would 'lie' for her. _I am the world's biggest hypocrite. Do they have awards for those?_

Even if he had lost her professional respect as Daredevil, he'd gained a better friend out of this ordeal they had endured together.

But you can't build something worthwhile out of a foundation of lies.

He was in his pyjamas and sat down on the dining chair. He called Foggy _._ He spared his friends the gritty details and only gave them the gist of things; he was kidnapped, it was related to Daredevil, Knight saved him, and he didn't want to relive it by discussing it any further.

" _Hey, how are things?"_

"Um, not too good," he admitted. "Things didn't turn out the way I thought they would, and I don't know how I feel about that."

" _This is about not telling Detective Knight the truth?"_

"Yeah, it is," he held up his spare glasses sighing, cleaning them using the end of his shirt.

" _You couldn't tell her Matt."_ Of course he knew where Foggy's opinion on the matter was. He probably thought that he was overthinking this, as usual.

"It feels wrong," _wrong because she is a decent person, wrong because she tried to bargain my release with our captors_. "I didn't know if we would make it out of there, I wanted to tell her because it didn't feel right to keep lying to her face."

" _I think no matter when you told her she would have been angry,"_ said Foggy. _"But if you did tell her now, after you guys both almost bit the dust. Well, I would be really pissed if I was her._ _And you don't know what she'll do when she finds out._ "

And there was that. Were they good enough friends that she wouldn't flip out? He had almost lost Foggy countless times. Was he prepared to test if Knight would forgive him too?

 _Foggy would never turn me in, but I can't know where her best interests lie. And in a sense I betrayed her by not confessing soon enough._

"Yeah you're right."

" _C'mon Matt, am I the vigilante in disguise here, or you? You always said to the keep the circle small. You haven't even told Karen yet, and now you want to spill your secret to someone who could potentially ruin you? Think!"_

His words stung but they rung true. "If I were in her shoes, after everything I put her through, I would want to know."

 _"You. Can't. You think you know her, but you don't. You have this whole Catholic guilt going on, but it's not going to help you. If you get caught, I go down, Karen goes down. And you're not going to be very useful to this city if you're locked up in a maximum security prison on_ _Rikers!_ " Foggy said vehemently. _"I know you're cut up about it, but I'm saying what I think, and I'm looking out for you. So for the love of God do not do anything stupid!"_

They hung up soon after. He slumped in his chair. _Tough love was what I needed._

Friends were hard for someone like Matt Murdock to come by. He didn't have many friends in the orphanage. A lot of them were temporary, adopted or sucked into the hungry abyss of foster care. Thus he valued a person, when they started to feel important to him.

But this was something he had to let go.

Or so he thought.

He tasted the copper first. He was at his door just as the banging started. Instinctively he put his glasses back on as he answered it. "Yes?"

She exhaled roughly. "Murdock." The many flights of stairs to his apartment had made her lose her breath.

"Knight," he opened it wider. "You should be at the hospital."

She crossed her arms, smacked her lips; "I need to talk to you."

"Yeah—" She barged into his apartment before he could complete his sentence. Her heart rate was skyrocketing. She was still in her hospital gown, a long jacket thrown over her shoulders. She must have gotten a lot of looks on her way over.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concerned. He closed the door behind him as she walked down the hall to the main living area.

"They released me early," she lied. Knight had her prying cop eyes on; unpacking the scene. "I had to see you."

"That's good news."

She held onto the back of the dining chair he'd vacated, she squeezed it until her skin was taut over her knuckles. "This is the first time I'm at your place. It's really nice," but he could hear something much more uncontrollable brewing in her tone, nothing friendly about it.

"Thanks. It's good to know I have moderate decorating skills despite this." He waved his hand in front of his eyes to indicate the blind aspect but she didn't laugh like she normally would. Knight only stared at him with dull incuriosity at what he had to say.

He took a small step closer to her. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Something was very wrong. He grew more convinced of it with each breath she took. He seriously thought a vein was going to burst in her temple. She was bottling something up. Knight savagely pushed the chair beneath the table making it rattle. "I can't say, I really don't know."

"Do you need me to call someone or—"

"Shut up," she said sharply. The tension in the air was alive and buzzing.

"Knight, I'm here for you, whatever is wrong you can tell me—"

It happened so fast that he could not calculate the implications of it;

She snatched the mug on the table and with perfect aim, hurled it at his head. He ducked. It smashed into a dozen pieces in the wall behind him.

Her mouth hung open. Watching a blind man successfully maneuvering beneath a flying projectile, he would have been shocked too. Either she was insane enough to attempt to harm someone who could possibly not defend themselves...or she knew the truth.

There was no use denying it. Matt took off his glasses and tossed them aside, they landed on the couch. He straightened from his bent position, and stayed frozen. There were no more lies, and no mask to hide behind. This was it.

"You know."

"Yeah, I do." She replied with a coldness that shot through his veins. There was a deadly stillness for a fraction of a second.

He did not move, did not raise his hand, did not breathe, and could scarcely feel his own heart beat.

He learnt that that had been the last shred of sympathy she had left towards him.

With a low growl she rushed him with her fist, he thrust it upwards away from his jaw. It was an angry assault. An explosion of power and stiffness too raw for her to contain.

"Please, let me explain," he took a jab to the shoulder, but managed circle away and fend her off. He held his hands out in surrender in front of him, hoping she would stop. He was already in enough physical pain himself due to his injuries.

"There's nothing to explain!" She latched onto his wrists and shoved him.

"Riley—"

She kicked him in the stomach right across the bandages; he bent over and stumbled backwards. The dull throbbing in his chest made it feel like it would split open. He was ready for the next blow she delivered. He barely did a thing to stop her as it continued. He just absorbed her hits, he wasn't going to feed this with any form of physical retaliation.

"You can see!" She slammed him into the wall.

He pushed her off him and slammed her against it firmly; "I _can't_ see!"

She threw her arms out and cut down his hold on her. Her knee came up to kick him in the groin and he blocked her, lurching backwards.

"You fucking liar!" She swung at him, breathing hard, precipitously close to ripping her stitches. "You hypocrite!" The morphine was already heavy on her skull. Her punches were less accurate but consumed by devouring fury.

"I know!"

Rage fuelled her every move, she brought her leg up for a sidekick. "No you don't! I trusted you!"

Her shoe connected with his hip, he lost his balance; "Please Knight, I don't want to fight you," he implored, and continued to back away from her, hoping she would tire out soon.

"You didn't have a problem throwing me against walls!" She lifted the dining chair. She was seething and the weight of it didn't even phase her. She chucked it at him, he crouched to avoid it. It didn't break but left a dent in his wall. Knight pressed on the advantage and charged.

"I didn't know you then!"

She nicked him, his teeth cut the inside of his cheek. "And how do you justify what happened when I got stabbed by a psychopath?!" She yelled, kicking his legs from under him. Matt fell, the wind knocked out of him. She straddled him. It put more pressure on his bruised ribs.

Then her cold fingers wrapped around his throat. "HOW?!"

"I'm sorry. Please."

Her grip tightened. "It might as well have been you stabbing me."

She lifted him by the throat and banged his head against the floor. Matt's breathing was rendered a thread-like hiss. He only noticed it then, the blood seeping onto her hospital gown.

"You're…you're bleeding—" he choked out.

She loosened her hold and looked down. A red handprint came away when she touch her abdomen. "Shit," she rolled off him.

He was still on his back, catching his breath; he quickly got to his knees and shuffled to her. She recoiled when he neared as if he'd tried to hit her. "Let me help," she swatted his hand aside, "at least let me call an ambulance."

Knight clutched her stomach and glared daggers at him, "I'm not done. Here. Get me a first aid kit." She tried to stand but could not. She watched him warily as he stood; he showed her his palms and then turned one over to offer it. She regarded it like it was carrying the plague. Once more, she tried on her own, but it only robbed her breath.

She gave in and grabbed his forearm and did not have the capacity to push him away when he strung his arm across her shoulders. He helped her to the couch. On the last step, she moaned and nestled her head in the crook of his neck, not thinking about whom the neck belonged too.

She grunted when Matt let go off her as gently as he could. He then ran to the kitchen to get the kit. She was swearing under her breath at him, and at the world, at the fact that her stitches had torn and she'd extended her recovery time.

Matt sat down on the coffee table, her knees in-between his, barely touching. He had the kit rested on one of his thighs, gloves on; he opened it and took out the necessary equipment. When he got to the surgical scissors she took a sharp inhale;

"You think I'm going to let you touch me with a pair of scissors?"

"What? You think I'm going to stab you?"

"I don't know anymore, do I?" She shot back.

Her words were another form of pain, it was like his heart was dropped in mud and trodden on. "I just want to help," he threaded the suture needle, "I would never hurt you."

"Didn't have a problem choking me to death on my living room floor." She'd literally had her hands wrapped around his throat a minute ago, and it mirrored the time he'd did it to her months before. _Before I got to know her._

"I guess we're even now," he said solemnly.

"Not even fucking close." Knight grimaced, hunching her shoulders as more pain blossomed; " _shit."_

"Please," he said. She slowly unlocked her fingers off the wound. "Do you mind?" He indicated to her hospital gown. Her eyes narrowed to slits at his request for her to undress.

Knight swallowed and gave some leeway to her stance on refusing his help. She undid one bow at the back and pulled upward from her knee, high enough to expose where the wound was on her left abdomen. She lied down on the armrest, but kept her neck angled to watch him like a hawk so she wouldn't miss a single thing he did. She let out a soft moan as he cleaned the blood away, the chemicals stinging.

"Who told you?" He asked, very quietly.

"I figured it out, asshole."

 _I deserved that._ She took heavy offense that he assumed she couldn't uncover his secret herself _. I tried to be careful, but it wasn't enough._ When it got to the time for him to start the stitches, he paused to track her body language. She was still glaring at him, but studying him at the same time. _She's treating me like a common criminal._ It made him feel bitter and small.

"How?" He asked, the needle pricked her skin. She closed her eyes trying to fight off the pain-meds and also her urge to wrap her hands around his windpipe again. Patching her up was helping to keep her fists off him and keep the situation calm. He just wanted to discuss this in a civilized manner.

"Father Lathom…he's at the hospital, he started saying a prayer to a family next to me. Daredevil— _you_ said the same prayer with Beth Richards. Everything clicked. That's not even considering all the unexplained injuries and the similar habits you two shared. The super-hearing also fit. I knew for a while really, I always thought but I couldn't accept it."

 _My faith, the only thing that ever saves me was what failed me._ "I didn't think that would be what gave me away."

A bitter retort was poised on her tongue; "Yeah, well I'm not as dumb as you think I am."

He stopped his threading, taken aback; "I never thought that."

"Yeah you did," her mouth twisted angrily. "Every time you smiled suspiciously I knew something was off about you, that you had a secret. But you played along."

"I had too," he tied off a suture and cut it. "You came too close too many times."

"You're blind. And you bet on that don't you? To ward off suspicion?"

"I do."

"How does it work?" She searched his countenance for some understanding from his vacant eyes. She was too close in proximity, everywhere she searched he felt her gaze prickle his skin. "Your eyes still look dead to me."

"Yes, I am still blind, but my others senses are heightened; taste, smell, touch, hearing. That's how I'm able to do everything I can."

She laughed scornfully; "What a cliché, thought your powers would be more interesting."

"I'm pretty basic."

Normally she would have poked fun at him, his entire being would not have irked her as it did. There was tightness in his throat, an uneasiness that made his stomach do somersaults.

"You said I endangered your friends if I involved you with Daredevil," she scoffed; "such bullshit." Knight rested her head back, her neck sore from looking at him.

"I know what I said, but I didn't know if I could trust you with this."

"You didn't trust me?" She lashed out, staring at him again. "What happened to us was your goddamn fault in the first place." She winced.

"Don't you think I wanted to do something?" He finished the stitches, "what could I have done?" He tore a bandage and tape to stick onto it. "I wanted too tell you then, it was killing me. I even tried."

For a moment she was weak and needed his help to stand. As soon as she was on her feet she shoved his arm away, her anger igniting again. "Is that how you felt when he was beating the shit out of me?"

His heart did a violent thud. "I didn't know how you would react, how to even put it into words." Every thing he said only made him regret his decision even more. Nothing was working.

"Who are you?" She asked, hurt playing across her face. "I don't know anymore."

"This is who I am, I am your friend."

He heard her breath catch slickly in her throat. "We are _not_ friends." She turned on her heel, holding her side, moving slowly.

He sighed deeply and picked her jacket off the floor, walking around the couch to hand it to her. "You still have a lot of painkillers in you. You need to sleep it off."

She snatched it from him; "I'm going back to the hospital."

"You should stay here. You're too weak. Please. I know you have a lot of questions, we can talk through this," it was a long shot but he had to try.

She swung her jacket on; "no."

He hung his head; "I'm sorry."

She pulled the sleeves of the jacket on and shouldered past him for the front door; "an apology isn't going to cut it."

"You are angry with me for lying and you have every right to be."

Knight whirled on him fast, he retreated a step. "It's not just that you made me feel like an idiot. I told them to let you go, Matt, and leave me. You were 'innocent', you didn't deserve to be- to be _hurt_ for my mistake." She said vehemently; "How fucking far from the truth is that? And you know what really kicks it? You were too much of coward to tell me the truth when it mattered, and you couldn't have done the same for me."

She stormed for the front door. "That's not how it is."

As her hand touched the handle she spun to him once more; "I'll tell you how it is. I meant what I said. That agreement, what Daredevil—what _you_ and I had is over. You don't interfere with my cases. You do not touch them, you don't even think about them."

"Riley, I care about how we get them. Everyone who's out to get this city—"

"I don't give a shit if you care," she stabbed her finger in the middle of his chest. "You stay out of it. And from now on, only Nelson deals with my brother's case. I don't want you near Tommy."

"I would never hurt him—"

Knight fisted the front of his shirt, and with surprising strength for her condition, backed him into the wall. He let her do it and grunted softly when he hit it.

"I'm not finished. You don't have my protection anymore," she whispered, with an intimidating glare. "Someone knocks on your door with an arrest warrant, that's your problem... " she leaned closer, her mouth inches from his, "and if you ever come near me with or without that mask, it'll be me knocking and carrying you out of here in handcuffs."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't. You wouldn't do that—"

"Oh yeah?" She tightened her hold and then gave a hard shove before letting go and stepping away. "Are you willing to find out?"

…

It had been a few days since Knight confronted him in his apartment. Every passing hour his breath stalled, he barely took any notice to the world moving on around him, as if he purposefully turned off his abilities and yearned for emptiness.

" _And if you ever come near me with or without that mask, it'll be me knocking and carrying you out of here in handcuffs."_

At first he'd panicked when she slammed the door shut. He contemplated running out of there to plead for forgiveness, to threaten her not to say a word to anyone. But his mind had gone blank. She would not accept his apology and he could not threaten her because that would mark him as more of a coward than he already was.

There were back to square one, but even further from, they were in minus hundreds. Thinking about it brought him close to nausea every time.

Would she go so far as to ruin his life? And what about Foggy and Karen's lives?

When he'd called Foggy a little bit after, his best friend had rushed over to his apartment, sweating and puffing.

"She has nothing Matt," Foggy rationalized, talking in big gestures with his hands, "you are still technically blind in the eyes of the law, how is she going to prove that you are capable of everything else? Make the judge and jury throw more mugs at you? No! We are fine."

Matt had desperately grasp onto that since. It made sense. She would also be putting herself in harm's way too if she built a case against him. _She still threw a chair at me despite being stabbed five days before, with that kind of resilience, does she even care what happens to her as long as I'm taken down?_

Perhaps this was what the end of his run as Daredevil looked like. Him, sitting in an office, in a firm he built with his best friends waiting for the knocks on the door to tell him it was the bitter end. He'd accepted it. There was nowhere to run. He couldn't leave New York. It was this unholy waiting that was driving him insane. He had gone to the precinct every evening to see if she would make a move, to build that case against him, but she hadn't. It was mind-boggling.

Besides, following her wasn't going to make a difference. She went about her normal job on that task force as usual. She was regaining her strength after the injury, dealing with annoying coworkers. There were little moments where her breath shuddered and she stared at the wall, fiddling with her pen or her keys. But that could mean anything. As much as he could monitor her physical state he couldn't tell what was going on in her head.

 _Are you planning an elaborate arrest, with twists and turns? What is your next move?_

But she gave away nothing.

And as much as Foggy cracked his jokes and played the mother hen of this coop, he was freaking out on the inside too. Matt turned his chair to face his window and growled low at it, "Where are you? Just come for me already."

He jerked in his chair when there was a knock on his door, but it was only Karen. "Hey Matt, how are you today?"

"Fine," he lied, and spun his chair back, "a little tired."

"Do you want me to get you coffee, or—?"

"Not now, I can go down to the deli later and get it myself."

"I can go with you," she suggested, trying to keep the worry out of her tone, but he caught it.

He sighed exasperatedly, "Karen. I don't need a bodyguard."

"I know, I just, I'm worried. Okay?" She plopped into the chair across from him. "You were kidnapped, and tortured and—I'm sorry, I know you asked both of us not to wig out. But it's difficult not to be concerned."

"I know," he said getting a little strung up about it, "but it was unfortunate timing, wrong place, wrong time kind of deal. I don't need you to babysit me if I want to get coffee."

He leafed through some papers on his desk, but he was only doing it to keep his hands busy.

"How's Knight doing?" Karen asked.

 _She's going about her day to day as if nothing happened, while I sit here a bird in a cage, waiting to be eaten. Was this her move? To make him paranoid? Or is it all in my head?_

"I don't know," he said, "we fought. It was both our faults technically." That much was true. He had gone to her first for this partnership, but she had returned and agreed to it.

 _Should I have turned her away when she asked to meet me?_

"More so hers than yours," Karen disagreed. "You stayed out of it. I've always had a feeling she wasn't good news and this proves that."

 _I shouldn't be second-guessing my decisions; what's done is done._ "Yeah I did. She is trouble, I suppose..." he stammered but Karen was only putting words into his mouth. He didn't think he actually believed any of what he said.

"Is that why you decided to remove yourself from her brother's case?"

"Not my decision," he said spitefully. "She wanted that." _I never did wrong by her brother, I never threatened to harm him. Even in the beginning._ How could he make her see that he wasn't the man she thought he was?

"You worked so hard on it for months and we're so close now."

"I told her that, but she didn't want to listen."

"Must have been some fight," Karen remarked. "Still, she has no right to do that because you had an argument. She owes you, for not ratting her out."

He wallowed in self-pity in silence. _She doesn't owe me a goddamn thing._ "The detective is the client and she can do what she wants, we have to respect that," Matt said, and even if he didn't like it, Knight was within her rights to ask him to be removed from the case, even if the reason was because she hated his guts. Despite the mess that his double life had landed him into, he had to disagree with part of Karen's opinion; "I didn't want to rat her out because people make mistakes, even cops. Even lawyers."

* * *

 _Riley_

A week had flown by since she effectively told Matt Murdock to make himself nonexistent in her life. Her threat had worked and she hadn't seen nor heard of Matt Murdock or Daredevil in seven whole days.

Fitzgerald assigned her to desk duty and she was bored out of her mind, answering phones and filling out forms like some secretary. She nearly threw the landline at Croftsky when he made the comparison.

They'd launched an investigation into Jonah and Rob. The latter was still unclaimed from the morgue, besides that, no one was allowed to tell her anything.

Figuring out who had ordered her capture, wrapping her head around the idea that Matt Murdock was Daredevil, is blind but also isn't blind was giving her a massive headache. He was the vigilante she had despised, then worked with and then despised again. Not to mention her personal life was up in flames. There was Tommy's trial to consider in the upcoming weeks and her mother had been relentlessly calling at the front desk asking for her. Not that Riley cared much for her mother's concerns, just that she wouldn't be able to handle her yelling.

 _What do I tell her? Some men with knives and guns took me because they suspected I was working with Hell's Kitchens' neighborhood vigilante?_

People at work had been looking at her as if she had another head growing out of her shoulder. She could feel the magnifying glass over her head. _'Suspended, pending further investigation'_ should be tattooed across her forehead, but it came in the form of this desk duty she was assigned too, even though Fitz never said it explicitly. She knew some people would be curious and try to dig. Every time she thought the rumors about her were stamped out, another one popped up.

Mahoney had stopped by earlier to ask how she was, "it could have been me," he'd said, "don't beat yourself up over what happened."

 _If only you knew Brett._

Matt interacted with Mahoney before her. Apparently, Mahoney and Nelson grew up on the same block together. That was another connection she only just learnt of. _Small world._

Her thoughts bounced back to Matt. She had been speaking to two different people there. Those quiet conversations in the church pews at dusk, they had always been a pleasant surprise. They replayed in her head and she had to ask herself; was that genuinely him? Had they been a show? Had he staged those meetings to bump into her?

He was someone completely different when he was Daredevil, yet he also showed glimpses of Matt Murdock during those instances. She tried to map it out in her head, but the diagram kept rearranging and crossing it self out. She couldn't keep track of these multiple personalities. How did he manage to do it himself?

What has he done? _Has_ he ever killed someone? She could not imagine it, Matt Murdock the friendly yet reserved defense attorney, murdering someone with his bare hands, or even just beating them to a pulp. Riley remembered how calloused his fingerpads were against her hand. She could not picture the vigilante with that much force in his arms and legs, flying as he did through the air with grace and precision, when she saw him with glasses and a cane and a suit.

Then there was how he could smell explosive compounds, sense where someone was in a pitch black building. See things she would never be able too. _His abilities._

He could hear her speak to him from a hundred meters away. So, how much of her life did he know through listening to it without her permission? The thought of it made her shiver.

Who else knew? Only her? Did Nelson or Page know too? Who taught him his martial arts skills, if he had been blind since the age of eight? The nuns at his orphanage? She pushed that absurd notion aside. She felt a headache superimposed on the one she already had. She was going to be a mad woman by the end of this with the endless flood of questions she had.

The phone rang; she looked at the caller ID. It was a call from the front desk manned by McDavis. "Sarge, if it's my mum again, tell her I'm—"

" _No, there's a—"_ McDavis muffled the receiver with her hand but she could hear her ask; " _what's your name again?"_

After the visitor answered, she uncovered the receiver; " _Mr. Nelson here to see you."_

Riley nearly dropped the phone. "What?"

The sergeant presumed Riley didn't hear her; _"Mr. NELSON,"_ McDavis repeated three times louder. Riley jerked the phone away from her.

 _Oh I know what he's here for. Murdock sends his best friend here to negotiate, to give me whatever bullshit he wants too because he can't do it himself._ "Tell him I'm busy," she said, almost hissing at her.

Leo, who remained in the office with her being the squads go to IT guy, was eavesdropping; "You've been answering phones and doing paperwork the whole day, how busy can you be?"

She flipped her middle finger at him.

" _He says it's important, about one of your mutual friends?"_ McDavis tittered. _"He's very persistent."_

"Yeah, attorneys tend to be like that," she replied sardonically.

" _Well someone_ _woke up on the wrong side of the bed today."_

 _You have no freaking idea lady._ "I can't see him. Thanks anyway McDavis."

" _So what do I tell him?"_

"Tell him, to 'eff' off," Riley said through clenched teeth. "And I'll buy you lunch tomorrow if you use the entire word too." She put down the phone, her cheeks heating up from the rage.

As much as she had tried to avoid Nelson, when it was time for her to clock out at night he was there, hurrying to his feet and jogging to her. _Christ, he called what?_ Five _hours ago? McDavis wasn't kidding when she said he was persistent._

"Nelson." She couldn't sprint away from him like she would normally have because of the stab wound still healing. "Have you been here this whole time?"

He got in her path; "I had to talk to you Knight."

His complexion was ashy and he had bags under his eyes. _"_ Do you not have a job to go too?" Riley tried to shove past, but he retreated further to stop her once again.

"One of the perks of being your own boss. Detective please, two minutes. I'm begging you."

There were too many ears in the lobby so she pulled him into an empty interrogation room; "Did he ask you to talk to me?" That anger she was repressing flaring up again. "Because I don't want—"

He flattened his hand to his chest; "I'm here on my own. Matt didn't want me to come here, provoke you, send the wrong message, or whatever. But I could not stand by and remain silent another day, waiting for something to happen."

She crossed her arms, looking him up and down. Nelson was an easy book to read unlike Murdock-which is probably why it took her months to figure out the truth. She could tell he was being earnest.

"You have one."

"One minute?" He whined, "no one can slap together a speech in—"

"55 seconds."

"Okay, okay," he raised his hands at her to get her to stop. Then he fired off on a non-stop babble session. "I know you know about Matt, his 'nighttime' hobbies. I was pissed too when I found out, I hated him. I couldn't trust him either. Your brain can't put two and two together. And that's completely fair. He hasn't even told Karen and she's suspicious too." She wanted to stop and ask him why Murdock had not told Karen. They were the three musketeers in that office. _Wouldn't it be even more of a pain in the ass to keep Karen from the truth, since they worked together five days a week?_

But she let him continue; "You figured it out yourself, I found out by accident, he-he was lying in a puddle of his own blood and I wanted to strangle him but also make sure he wasn't dead," there was an anguished expression on his face. "It took me a long time to come to terms with it. And I'm still not there yet. But he's a good guy, he's my best friend, I love him. He fucks up, but we all fuck up. And I know this is really fucked up."

He took a deep breath in, which marked the end of that. _Why was I only thinking of myself? Nelson is in the throes of his best friend being Daredevil 24/7. That's worse._

"Nelson—"

"I know you're angry," he interrupted trying to placate her. But it served the opposite reaction he was trying for.

"Yes I'm angry," she grit out. "And betrayed and confused and I appreciate that you're here sticking your neck out for him, but seriously _don't_. You don't need to bother defending him, I said my piece, and I'm sticking to it. So you're wasting your time here."

"He told me you wanted to turn him in, that you weren't protecting him anymore," said Nelson, giving her his plea. "Don't, please don't do this. You're doing this because you're mad at him for letting you down. I know that feeling."

 _Why the hell do feelings have to be involved in this?_ The only feelings she wasn't alien too were anger and disappointment and she'd been fed plenty of that her whole life. "For fuck's sake; he's still breaking the law, Nelson. And I gave him a warning, that's letting him off _easy_." She stabbed at the air beside him; "I could have had the police, SWAT, the anti-vigilante _task force_ swarming his apartment and arresting him the moment it came together in my head. But I went in there alone; literally ripping my stitches open because I had to see the truth for myself. I had to make my own judgement."

She considered that mercy and Nelson was here asking her to ignore this hurt she felt, to _not_ be mad? _He should be thanking me._

"And your judgement is to threaten him with an arrest? Even after everything? That's not fair! You went there throwing punches with the mindset that he's always been the bad guy, you didn't give him a chance to defend himself." He closed his hands together pressing the sides of them to his mouth as he tried to keep himself composed. "If you turn him in what happens to me, or Karen?"

He had her there.

"Knight, I have had high blood pressure this entire week, the suspense was killing me. I had no idea when you would raid our office and arrest the three of us."

"He's dragged you into his mess too, like he did with me. Does he ever consider you guys when he puts that stupid mask on? Have you ever asked yourself that?"

"Of course I have!" He threw his arms out, they fell down against his hips and he held up his index at her, "but don't forget Karen and I are not willing participants. You two were partners in crime. You are not innocent either. I don't think I've had a proper wink of sleep in the past year being worried sick about him. And you, you're the cop here, but you just let it go on! You're encouraging it instead of doing your job, you benefit from it."

There was clearly some internal conflict within Nelson that jumbled his argument. "What are you trying to say? You want me to arrest him so he'll stop?"

"No! God no! Ugh, it's-it's getting twisted in my head," he pressed his fingers to his forehead. "Yes I worry for him, he puts himself in danger day after day, but I know he will never stop. I just know I want him to be safe."

"You want me to keep protecting him? Are you serious?"

"Yes! Now that you know the truth, how can you just leave it like this? Me begging you is my sole attempt at actually making sure he is safe, because I can't do much beyond this." He shrugged helplessly. "And I know I shouldn't be throwing accusations at you, because you could really fuck things up for us. But someone had to say it!"

His accusation stung, but the truth was never easy to swallow. It wasn't like she hadn't accepted her part in this; "Yeah, I worked with him for a while, yes I defended him, and I am guilty of everything you said. And I learnt my lesson and I stopped," she argued. "But Daredevil, Matt Murdock -whoever the fuck he is, nearly got me killed. He wasn't the man I thought he was. I want to stay away, and honestly, I think you should too, for your own good. All I asked was for him to not interfere with my cases or try to contact me again. It's not rocket science. I am looking out for my little brother and myself. Just as he did."

"You say you wanted to make your own judgement. Did you consider that he's saved your life in the past?"

Riley pressed her lips shut and leaned on the desk. She couldn't even remember the number of times he had saved her. _I think there are too many to count._ The most recent time was at the docks with the stand off against Conway. She'd searched for him in the rafters. She'd become dependent on his big save when things got dangerous. That could not happen anymore.

"You are a good person Riley. I know you were willing to sacrifice your life for Matt's," said Nelson filling the silence she left. "I am grateful for that, and so is he. He's not your enemy, he wasn't trying to kill you. Bottom-line what I'm trying to say here is; Matt and Daredevil are one the same, you fought alongside him. You believed in it, what he was doing. Don't turn your back on him now. Don't leave him for the wolves, but don't sicc them on him either."

There were gold flecks shining in Matt's green eyes, she'd gotten close enough to see them that day. They made him look younger. _That's why he wears the mask and the glasses, so no one can see the ugly truth beneath them._ "I believed in him for a minute, but I was brainwashed like the rest of this city."

Nelson's shoulders slumped, his eyes were downcast. "I don't think that's it. I have known Matt for, I'd say a good chunk of my adult life. But I think you understand Daredevil, more than I ever have." He smiled humbly, "and that means you understand Matt. So please, give him another chance."

* * *

 _Please fav, follow and review! I really had a hard time trying to figure out how I wanted that confrontation to go, but Riley has always had a temper and if I had been backstabbed and also literally stabbed like she was, I would be taking swings at him too. And rather than have Daredevil lift his mask up for the big reveal, I wanted to go a lil' crazy and have her do a test by flinging something at Matt Murdock when he was 'blind' and vulnerable. It's a lot for both of them to process so it's time to mend this friendship! Hehe.._

 _I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! More chapters to come xx_


	21. Chapter 21

_It'd be great if we could get some help—FN_

Riley stared at Nelson's text for a long while, put her phone down, did some work, and then stared at it again. It had been less than two days since he'd given her that speech. It seemed to only add to the confusion she was already experiencing. He messaged her asking for a search on a database for an ally of someone they were representing in court later this week. Apparently it would slide them into a victory if she could lend a hand.

 _Was this a trap? Does he intend to stage some sort of intervention?_ She had not seen Murdock in over a week, and it was childish if she avoided meeting at their firm altogether merely because he may or may not be there. Last night she informed Tommy that Murdock wouldn't be on his case anymore. That explanation had involved a lot of complex dodging. Her brother knew her well enough to know when she was really upset about something, and so Tommy began to pry; _what happened? Did you argue? Did you say something? Did_ he _? Were you secretly dating this whole time and it didn't work out?_

Absurd things like that.

If only he knew it was a hundred times crazier than a tryst that fell apart.

She leaned back in her office chair, the room was empty. It had been an uninteresting day of being forced to stay planted in the office while everyone else got to do the fun stuff. The sun from the window was egg yellow, falling on her countenance. Riley closed her eyes and rubbed her hand over the bandage on her abdomen. Immediately after confronting Murdock, the nurse at Metro General complimented the skill and precision of the 'acquaintance' that re-did her stitches. His gentle hands carefully sewing her... and his face carved in guilt swam to the forefront of her memory.

Riley had to ban those thoughts.

Yet it got a little harder day-by-day to do just that.

She shook herself back into a more rational mindset. Possibly against her better judgment as usual, she decided to do Nelson the favour. A few clicks later she obtained the contact he needed.

 _Why should I be afraid of him? He should be afraid of me._ Repeating that to herself as she stood, Riley got her car keys and headed for the car park.

When she got to Nelson & Murdock, Ms. Page answered the door. She was slightly taken aback to see her, nut it was evident the truth was still hidden from Karen since she was nowhere near as distraught as Nelson was when Riley entered his office.

His hair was disheveled and there was a small pile of coffee cups in his trashcan. "You-you're actually here," he breathed, startled.

"Yeah, I got what you asked for," she held up the file.

"I wasn't sure you'd even try," he started to stand making it more awkward. "I mean—I know I was really out of line that day, I was pushy, I-"

"I am not here to listen to any apologies. This isn't about you." She placed it down on the edge of his desk so he would stop getting up to shake her hand, or God forbid, hug her. "Take it. Win the case."

"Thank you." He clasped his palms together. "Thank you!"

She smiled in a friendly but chagrined manner and said goodbye to both of them.

As she opened the door she ran into Matt Murdock.

She went ice cold all over; her heart thudded in her chest as if she slammed on car brakes. A millions curses came to her head.

His Adam's apple visibly bobbed as he swallowed deep, his grip on his cane wavering slightly. It felt as if it was yesterday when she found out, when she'd been choking him to death on his living room floor. It felt like a nightmare but only became more shockingly real with him standing before her, with an ashen face, guilt-stricken as ever.

Ms. Page was watching them like a hawk from her desk. They both had to watch what they said. Even as her heart rate escalated through the roof and her throat went dry. She initiated the greeting.

"Murdock," her voice did not sound like her own. It took all her willpower to maintain control over what her body wanted to do.

Did he sense her in the office this whole time? He must have if he could smell C4 and hear through walls. Did he want to intentionally bump into her? Was anything ever just a coincidence with Matt Murdock? Perhaps he was trying to prove a point just as she had when she decided to help Nelson with the case he was struggling with.

"Detective," he replied, monotone.

"Late to work again?" She asked casually, yet inside wishing she could grip on something to help her contain the tidal wave of emotions crashing inside of her. She was reminded of why she hated him to begin with. Riley didn't think she was capable of feeling that much hate again in her life.

"I haven't been sleeping well," he rasped.

Obviously she was the reason behind his insomnia. At first she couldn't give two shits if he was tossing in bed at night without a moment of respite. _He deserves it._ But a teensy part of her asked; was she wrong to have threatened him? It had come so naturally at the time. She'd been a rage-fuelled monster. The awakening of that side of her frightened her almost as much as the truth about Matt Murdock did. In her experience, that kind of strong negativity never led to good things for her.

Her hands were shaking so she shoved them in her pockets, the control she thought she had over the situation had clearly never been there to begin with. "Well good luck with that," Riley replied tersely.

She slid past him without another look or word.

Knowing what she did of his super senses, she did not feel safe to breathe, or blink, could not trust a single cell in her body to react normally as nature would have it, until she was on the pavement outside and fast-walking back to the precinct.

She didn't trust him and she didn't trust herself to be around him again.

 _That's the last time I ever do a favor for Nelson and Murdock._

* * *

 _Matt_

With his thoughts racing he hastily replied Karen's sharp questions. His senses were still overwhelmed by her smell, the cadence of her voice, every minute reaction she had towards him. Her new default was to attack him and she tried very hard not to do that in front of the others.

He had not expected her to be there, but had gone up the stairs presuming he would be able to deal with it, but boy he'd been wrong. He shut the door as gently as he could behind him once he was inside Foggy's office, even though he almost snapped the handle off.

"What—" he began with a concealed growl "—did you say to her?"

* * *

 _Riley_

On her left, Malek yawned as she replied a text to her latest 'boy-toy' and Leo munched obnoxiously on a bag of pretzels to her right. _Perfect, I got the sexter and the loud chewer as stakeout buddies._

The three of them were lying flat on their bellies monitoring a cramped doorway a hundred feet from them. The entire team was on a dark rooftop across from a Woodrugh crew stash house. There was supposed to be a trade between them and a rival crew, a sign of good faith, also a sign that a coalition was forming between small-time dealers to strengthen them against larger, more well-organized mafia.

Her team's restlessness was warranted; they'd been at this for a few hours. Currently it was her turn to hold the binoculars.

"You know what the best advice I've ever gotten about stake-outs is?" Leo asked her and Malek. It was just past midnight. The last time she ate was dinner and her stomach moaned like a dying whale.

"What?" Riley asked, she was so bored she would accept any kind of amusement then. Even Leo's endless parade of eccentric, mostly unremarkable, questions.

"Adult diapers," said Leo, like it was some groundbreaking revelation. Malek and Riley gave him unconvinced sidelong glances, not prepared to take that advice seriously. He shrugged noncommittally munching on a gummy bear; apparently high calorie sugary snacks were key for stakeouts too- according to Leo. "Believe me or not, Fitzgerald swears by them."

Malek snorted; "You think he's wearing one right now?"

Riley lowered her binoculars and the three of them gave a long look at Fitz and Croftsky on the other end of the roof as they surveyed another entrance. They particularly focused on their boss' tail end.

"Doesn't look cushioned enough," whispered Leo back at them, shaking his head critically.

"Guys, can we please focus?" Said Riley, annoyed.

Leo put down the bag of gummy bears and stood up to stretch his legs and arms; "We've been here for _three_ hours and nothing has happened. We've been focusing for quite a bit already."

"Can you sit down?" She snapped, praying no one had spotted him from across the street or down below, she smacked the side of his calf.

"Why are you even here Knight? That stab wound's still got to be healing," replied Leo sullenly, not sitting down.

"It's better than being at a desk." Honestly she just wanted to get out of the precinct's four walls. Recon wasn't going to put any strain on her injuries and Fitz allowed it.

"Not really," Leo's impatience was starting to get on her nerves.

"Wait I see movement!" Announced Malek. Riley lifted the binoculars back. _Finally some action._

But it wasn't the Woodrugh crew -or the crew they were supposed to meet with- scaling the red brick walls.

It was Daredevil.

When she lowered the binoculars again the reaction on her face could only be described as incredibly pissed off.

"That son-of-a—"

Bursts of light and gunfire exploded from inside, flashing against the windows. Fitzgerald ran over to their corner, the wrinkles on his forehead creased as deep as a canyon. They hadn't had enough time to radio it to him before chaos broke;

"Why did none of you morons signal?! Do each of you have your thumbs up your asses?"

"It's not the other crew, it's fucking Daredevil," hissed Leo. Collectively, the entire team was pretty annoyed with the vigilante.

"Gah! Everyone to the ground! Go! Go!" Ordered Fitz pointing shoving his index finger rapidly at the roof's exit. Everyone started to gather, already dressed in bulletproof vests, sprinting for the door.

As she stood up to join them thinking Fitz would let her into the field, he shut her down straightaway; "Not you Knight, stay put!"

She nodded glumly, obeying.

With a huff she sat back down and snatched the packet of gummy bears Leo left unattended. _Does he know I'm here?_ She wondered. Nelson's long speech still echoed in her head, and she caught herself thinking about Matt Murdock when she didn't want to even remember him to begin with.

Her ears caught the chatter over the radios. She knew she had to stay alert even if she wasn't in the thick of the action, she raised the binoculars again.

She saw a dark figure climbing out from a window and when he came into the focus of the streetlight another figure dashed out after him, Daredevil. Even if it had been a week, her brain was still catching up with it:

 _Matt Murdock is Daredevil._

That was still going to take some getting used too.

The pair of them was making it to street level. There was a motorcycle that the drug dealer he was chasing made a beeline for.

 _Oh no, no way is he getting away with this._

And she wasn't talking about the dealer.

Driven by an urge to do things by the book, and possibly a little bit by a need for revenge via making a point- Riley disobeyed Fitz and ran for the exit. She needed a bit of order back into her life, and cops needed to be the ones to serve justice again. Riley thought it was ironic that every facet of the criminal justice system was technically being represented in that moment; Riley the police officer, Murdock the lawyer, and the criminal.

 _When did it get so messed up?_

As she sprinted down to the ground floor, the lag of the stab wound hastened her. But she charged forward. She hopped onto her motorcycle, strapping the helmet on. Riley gripped the accelerator, speeding up. She saw the young dealer and leaned to the right to chase him, narrowly missing an incoming vehicle from the opposite direction.

She could hear the wind whistling passed her ears, as she sped up, the dial inched higher and higher. She made a sharp turn that nearly had her elbow scrape against the street. It was becoming clear however, that this criminal was much better than she was at driving a motorcycle.

They twisted and turned in circles until he finally managed to outdrive her at a T-junction. He was going at least ninety miles in a housing district, and there were too many pedestrians, it was a risk she could not take. The lights went from red to green and a car driving forwards was in her course and she was a millisecond from crashing into it.

She squeezed the brakes and the tires cried out against the friction. Her bike halted tilting forward, the thrust almost flung her off. She watched the perp speed away to freedom. Riley removed her helmet; her hair was matted to the top of her head with sweat.

Riley looked to the alleyway she knew he would be lingering in, of course he wouldn't leave her to do what she was paid to do without unnecessarily monitoring her.

She quickly parked her bike and stormed into the cramped alley. "Stop. Following. Me!"

Her yell woke a tenant who popped his head out from four stories above. "Shut the hell up lady!"

"Get back inside your apartment!"

Her eyes had to adjust to the shrouds of black as she strode further down the path. _How can anyone see or do anything in this darkness?_

But then she remembered whom she was dealing with.

Even with the tall facades obscuring most of the light she could still see the blood red of Daredevil— _Matt Murdock's—_ costume as he stood atop a dumpster. He did not chicken out and run from the confrontation. She didn't know if she respected him for that or wanted to punch him in the face once more, all she knew was that he was the perfect outlet for her rage at losing the perp.

And she wasn't done being monumentally pissed at him either. There was no Karen or Nelson to stop her unleashing that rage-fuelled monster inside this time.

"I'm not following you," he countered with a barely concealed growl, his jaw hard as stone. His chest was rising and falling as he panted from running.

"What the hell are you trying to prove?" She questioned, Riley flung her arm at the street behind her. "We lost him!"

Daredevil— _fuck, it's Murdock,_ she had to remind herself, the costume was throwing her off—jumped down to ground level with her, edging closer. It was first time she was encountering this version of Matt aka Daredevil. _He's_ _always worn some kind of costume, the suited lawyer or the red Devil suit._ As Nelson said; she still could not put two and two together in her head.

 _He's blind, I've seen him bump into the corners of tables, swing his cane about looking for doorways, held my arm to cross the road for goodness sake._

But he was also the same person that dodged the countless bullets she aimed at him, taken down three armed officers all whilst handcuffed, _also tossed a guy out a window like he weighed nothing_.

The conundrum was enough to give her a headache right there and then.

 _What the hell am I dealing with?_ Who _the hell am I dealing with?_

"It's your squad's fault! If they hadn't barged in—"

"They barged in because of you!" Riley shot back, "We were there for three hours—"

"Yeah, getting nothing done!" He argued, swiping a hand through the air.

That struck a chord, she shoved him, but just as her fists rapped against his chest, he put her in a hold with his hands below her shoulders and then pushed her away from him. "I do not want to fight!"

 _He's untouchable isn't he? His blindness and good looks is a rock hard alibi that would make any jury swoon, and I literally cannot win any physical battle against him with his superior fighting technique._

Untouchable or not, she wasn't done fighting. "We were waiting for another crew to make a trade! And you stopped that."

That gave him pause, "I didn't know that," he stammered, his conviction and frustration waning. He took a step back from her. Suddenly the half of his face she could see; his mouth, his jaw-the part that had always told her that it was Matt Murdock all along beneath the mask- were etched with guilt.

That should have given her total satisfaction. _He was wrong, I was right, hallelujah._ It was the sort of ego stroke she had been aiming for this whole time, since the moment she threw that mug at him in his apartment a week ago.

But it didn't.

 _Why the hell didn't it?_

"Yeah you didn't know," she shot back but with much less viciousness, she hoped she still posed a threat anyway. "News flash Murdock we police officers do have our shit together sometimes."

"They were going to kill that kid who ran," Murdock explained vehemently. "He was 18 and got mixed up with that gang, he tripped up a little, messed up a trade and they were going to execute him. I heard it from two miles away and I had to help. I had to interfere." He folded his arms, taking a defiant stance, "not like I could ask you to do that on my behalf."

A second ago- for an inexplicable reason- she was feeling, _empathy, you could say._ But he had to ruin that with his last comment, and that anger she held onto just as easily returned.

He was trying to pin this on her? Throw blame on her? She opened her mouth ready to set off on the opening salvo of arguments she had possibly rehearsed in her head only a million times-

-When Fitz voice blared through her radio;

" _Knight! Where are you?"_ He demanded.

Red-faced, beyond mortified, Riley bit her lip and turned to the side, pressing down on the comm.

"There was a perp escaping the premises, I gave chase, but I lost him."

" _Get back here, now!"_

 _Great, now Murdock gets to hear my boss being pissed at me._ "Copy that," she said, sheepishly.

When she glanced up back at him Matt Murdock was already gone.

* * *

 _Riley_

Unsurprisingly, she had landed herself in trouble once more. It was the second time the Woodrugh crew had evaded them and Fitz was getting sterner with the whole team. Except he directed the brunt of his frustration to her. _Perhaps if I was allowed to physically contribute instead of being chained to a desk, feeling my brain turn to Jell-O, they wouldn't be one man down and they would get somewhere with the investigation._

But Fitz wasn't having any of it. As it was becoming apparent to everyone in her life, Riley was a magnet for trouble, and Fitz saw it fit that she be extra careful considering eyes were on her once more after her suspicious kidnapping.

"And please, don't disobey me again," he reprimanded. Thankfully they were in the lobby and the rest of the team was were outside of the precinct when he lectured her.

On her way back to her desk she tried to hide the sour look she wore. Riley sat down for another mindless intricate search cross-referencing several databases. As her hand automatically rested on her computer mouse she realised there was a Post-it note stuck to it;

 _Woodrugh. 13 Foster Terraces._

Then her eyes landed on the initials at the bottom.

 _-MM_

She had half a mind to launch her fist through the computer screen. Instead Riley swiped it off her mouse and scrunched it up into a ball. Then she whipped out her cell phone and started to type madly;

 _I don't need your help._

A few seconds later those dreaded three grey dots started to bounce on the corner of the screen;

 _Ok._

 _But I'm still going to give it to you._

"Oh my God, fuck. Off," she smacked her phone face down, threading her fingers through her hair.

"Jesus I'll leave then."

She tilted her head to see Leo giving her the side eye as he tapped away at his keyboard.

"Not you," she said with a low grumble in her throat and then proceeded to block Murdock's number.

"Better get on finding that address or Fitz will have both our asses," reminded Leo, not moving his focus from his screen.

She peered at the balled up yellow Post-it at her feet. She kicked it beneath her desk. _Stay away, Riley._ She didn't need Murdock's Post-it to find Woodrugh. She would do it herself.

…

Restless nights had been leaving her a zombie during the day. After being haunted for the fourth day in a row Riley decided to do something about it. She took medication that night to help her fall asleep. Unfortunately it wasn't doing anything to thwart the nightmares that pestered her nights.

The dream never changed.

She had a knife inside Rob's throat, and she gutted him from neck to naval. The blood was thick and black and coated her as she screamed and screamed. She tried to force herself to wake up but the sleeping pill was a locked door and she did not have the key to open it.

It was the ringing of her cell phone that finally did the trick to rouse her. She shuddered awake, a layer of sweat covering her body. It was five in the morning. A few times earlier in the week she'd sat up too fast and exacerbated her wound, but she learnt to move more mindfully.

It was Leo on the phone _; "yo, are you deaf? I've called a hundred times."_

"I'm sorry, I-I took something to sleep. Whatever." There was no use explaining anything to him. "What's up?"

" _Fitz needs us to roll out, as many bodies as we can to the scene. Try to make it if you can."_ He gave her an address and hung up.

 _By 'try' Fitz means he wants me to be there ASAP._

Riley dropped her head back down on the pillow, moaning in frustration. She wasn't going to get any proper rest tonight; it felt like she had only been asleep for five minutes and not five hours. Slowly, she sat straighter, clutching her stomach as it throbbed. She braced herself for the symphony of groans that were about to ensue, as she had to get up and get herself dressed.

Fitzgerald and the squad were at a chemical plant on the outskirts of town. It was not the address Murdock had tried to sneak her earlier. On the drive there she could see an orange glow, forming a ridge against the black sky. _Fire._ She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, hoping the team was unharmed.

An explosion was not good news for anyone involved.

It was worse than she thought. The fire was ablaze. Golden yellow, red, and orange flames licking the air, sparks and soot crackling and shooting upwards to the heavens. The heat of it warmed her when she got out of the car. It's strong light stung her eyes; she sheltered them with the flat of her hand. She arrived at the same time the firefighters got there. They started to unwind giant water hoses to put it out.

She saw familiar police cars scattered nearby and ran across the dirt towards them.

"Alfie?" Riley said when she spotted him standing with a few other colleagues. As she got to him, the crashing of rubble shook the earth, a colossal chunk of metal signage yawned and swung off its hinges. It detached slowly, trials of flames coming off it.

"You're late," said Alfonso, also covering his eyes from the soot and bright flames. "They're trying to contain the fire. Things got out of hand fast."

"Where are the rest of my squad?"

"They're over there, questioning someone they dragged out in time. I think the rest of them are burning to a crisp."

She cocked her head to peer over his shoulder. Croftsky, Malek, Leo and Fitz stood in a semi circle surrounding the criminal they saved from the fire who was in handcuffs looking up at a Fitz. _Poor guy. He escapes the hellfire and lands into another version of it._

"Looks like they have things handled."

Alfie smirked; "someone got kicked off the cool kids table?"

She glared at him. "Fuck off." Alfie just laughed.

"Did Fitzgerald ask you to come?"

"Yeah, a witness placed Daredevil here," he said. "I got my team here to do a sweep once the firefighters deal with the fire."

"A sweep?" She blurted, taken aback.

"Yeah. We have to be sure," Alf replied more firmly.

"I thought you had bigger fish to catch than Daredevil."

"I do. But after what happened to you, I can't just ignore him anymore, I was absolutely correct to hold a grudge against him. You almost died because of him."

She felt like she was in some kind of loop. A few weeks ago this argument was off the table and back they were to it again. "It's 5am, I don't want to talk about this."

"We've both been so busy we haven't talked at all since you were discharged," he went on ignoring her plea. "You don't even remotely have anything to do with what he does, yet you still almost died because of him, for the _second_ time."

 _Not all of that is true though, is it?_

She wanted to tell him everything then. Lay the truth out. He had been right this whole time anyway. "You didn't wake up for four days," said Alfie. "I thought you'd get pneumonia again, or something else just as shitty, be trapped in that ward for a month never knowing if you would make it. I thought about Amy. I miss her so much, and if you died and I did nothing this _whole_ time when I could have? I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

Riley sighed, but the smell of the carbon didn't make the deep breath pleasant or relaxing. _If he goes in and finds Matt Murdock, what happens? Does Murdock spill the beans on me? Will he have the upperhand? Would he do that to me?_ Something did occur to her then. _This must be what he feels like everyday._ Endless questions tormenting him. Panic bubbled inside her over it, what the future of her career, or lack thereof may look like.

"I get it. I miss her too. But you can't make these things a personal vendetta Alfie. They don't work out, believe me." Nothing could hold more truth with her than that statement.

"I don't know why you're arguing with me over this," he was getting irritated with her. "I'm done with that. I'm putting a stop to him. And I'm going to trust my gut again. I won't change my mind."

Riley bit her lip and glanced at the fire again, her lashes flickering against the blinding light. Something else occurred to her then; "If the Woodrugh's are burning to a crisp in there, then what makes you think Daredevil is going to survive?"

"Do you think I care if he does?" He replied, dark and uncaring.

And her stark, heart-throbbing, adverse reaction to what he said, was her undoing.

By all means, she should feel the exact way he did, but she didn't. She just _didn't_. That hate she had been gripping onto for the past week, dissolved. A different kind of panic was settling into her veins. "Just-just do what you need too," she stuttered, walking away from him.

Always in sight of the fiery monolith, bathing her in a deep orange glow, she found a quiet corner away from everyone. Her fingers fumbled in her pocket for her phone.

* * *

 _Matt_

The smoke was enclosing on him. His eyes watered. He only heard the violent whooshing and roars of the flames, the crackling fireballs. Every inhalation was a gust of smoke and carbon and acrid sulfur choking him. With the dial on his powers at one of it's lowest position, he didn't catch the creak above him and then the rush of air. A metal and concrete façade broke apart and crashed down onto him.

It was the sudden striking impact first, followed by the pain.

He was on his back. There was no more air in his lungs. Each breathe in only made things worse. There were a hundred dragons breathing fire all around him, heat washing over his face. He was suffocating. Like a burning film reel, black holes formed in his canvas; the black vignette slowly but surely consumed him.

Just as he was fading, he felt a vibration against his leg.

* * *

 _Riley_

The dial tone rang and rang. She was dreading his answer, but also dreading the possibility that he may not answer. _I should have used the address he gave me, given that to Fitz, then we would have gotten the Woodrugh's earlier in the day and not tracked them here. The fire would never have happened. This was me. All me._ She was hunched slightly begging God for him to pick up.

Her exhale of relief rattled through her when he did.

"This is no way means that I give a shit about you," she said before he could get a word in, "but I hope you're not in there."

 _"Knight…"_ he croaked, barely audible to her against the hissing of the fire she stood a hundred feet from.

"Murdock?"

 _"I-I can't move…"_ he said, voice choking on pain.

"What do you mean you can't move?"

 _"I'm on the ground floor…east—ugh.."_

"Why can't you move? What happened?" But there was only silence on the other end. "Hello?" She lowered the phone from her ear and squinted at the fire engulfing the chemical plant. The firefighters were dampening it, but not fast enough. She was close to where he said he would be.

"Shit."

Riley broke into a run. There was an iron door, she could see a mirage formed by the heat, glimmering over it. Her forehead was sweating. As she neared it jets of flames exploded the windows, glass rained, she shielded herself with her arm.

The stab wound she received still bothered her, left sour feelings and hate on her tongue, and she could blame him and blame him and blame him for weeks for it.

But no way did that mean Matt Murdock deserved to die in a fire.

Riley kept her arm up and went nearer. She felt like she was on fire, but it was just the searing heat of the place. Nearer she went, and kicked the door down. Instantly she was thrown into a fit of coughs, her eyes were burning until tears ran and pricked her cheeks. The walls were flames fifty feet tall, bearing down on her ferociously. _Where is he, where is he?_ But everywhere was the same, she had no sense of orientation.

It was better to get in quick and out as fast as possible. She ran in, screaming for him, "Matt! Matt!"

Just in a time, she let out a squeal of terror and scurried from a piece of flying debris that would have taken her arm off on its descent. It crashed near her sputtering gold sparks. There wasn't a chance to recover from that as she spun madly, searching for him. "Matt!"

Blinking rapidly she almost missed him as she turned this way and that. But there he was, there he fucking was, amidst the rubble and carnage that comprised this literal hell, flattened by a concrete wall that could be crushing his spine. Heart leaping into her mouth, she ran to him.

"Matt!"

* * *

 _Hope you guys liked the chapter! I'm a little sleepy so I definitely have grammar mistakes in this. Please, review, fav or follow if you like what you're reading! Thanks for stopping by xx_


	22. Chapter 22

_Riley_

Her knees and her shoulders were burning, not from the fire, but from the effort of lifting the concrete off of Matt. She was able to move aside the first four pieces because they were thin. But this final slate was the thickness of the width of her hand and flattened most of him.

The weight of it was dragging her down by the joints despite every forceful tug she gave. She was possibly doing all sorts of damage to her own healing injuries. Her arms were going to give any second but somehow she was able to keep lifting. Up, up and up. She turned her palms and gave one more mighty push.

With a guttural scream she shoved it aside, enough that he was completely free of it.

Coughing, gasping, utterly winded, but unable to replace any useful air into her lungs, she stepped forward and back down to her knees. She pulled Murdock over her shoulders. He was unconscious. She briefly wondered where the firefighters were, whether they were making their way to the plant where she was—

—But to hell with that.

Riley had a singled minded purpose to get him and herself the _F_ out of there.

She wheeled them towards the exit; they staggered towards it desperately with Riley ignoring the fire raging around them. A stray plank plunged towards them and she had to swivel them to her left to avoid knocking them both out. As they reached the door she missed the step. She tripped, and combined, they planted fact-first into the ground. A gust of dirt flew into her mouth. Murdock let out a loud groan but remained out of it beside her. Distantly she was pleased that he could still react, it meant things weren't as bad as they looked externally. _That's what I hope anyway._

Her body still felt as warm as a furnace. Spitting out the dust, she stood and hooked her arms beneath his armpits dragging him to a nearby shallow ditch covered by tall dry grass. Compared to the hot flames inside, the cool night air started to seep into her skin. She put her ear to his mouth, he was still breathing, but he just hadn't come too yet. She ran back around to get her car. All the while praying no one came this way and found him there as the police and firefighters worked at the front of the chemical plant.

Less than five minutes later she had him loaded onto the backseat of her car. She arranged his legs on the seat. As she marshalled her thoughts several things dawned on her—the first; she was not equipped to handle this. Riley put on a knee on the seat and started smacking his face, shaking his chest, "Matt, Matt wake up." Nothing.

What happens next? _Here I find myself again, getting tangled in the mess that is Matt Murdock. I could ruin my life because of this one heroic act._

A random surge of hatred lit inside her. It had her taking her phone out and scrolling through her contacts. _Who to call?_ Nelson? Metro General? Her thumb hovered over Alfie's number. _This could be it, I end this right now._ He was lying in front of her, vulnerable as a lone ant she could squish with her boot. She could turn him in, it was the right thing to do, the just thing to do, the promises she made to him would come true.

But how would she explain to Alfie what she was doing saving Daredevil? How would she explain how she knew him to her best friend? All of the truth would have to come out, all the lies she's told him would-

"Is that who I think it is?"

Riley jumped out of her skin and spun around; a firefighter stood ten feet from her. He lifted his mask off, awe-struck, jaw hitting the ground. _I am such a fucking idiot, leaving my car here, making life-changing decisions in plain freaking sight._

In total shock, she didn't know what else to say, except; "Yeah, yeah it is."

"Is he dead?" His soot-covered face grew concerned. She got more nervous as he drew nearer.

She was unable to move or do anything except stand there. "No, but he's not in good shape."

To her complete astonishment the firefighter squatted into the backseat. He felt Matt's pulse, which ideally was the first thing she should have done. "He's still alive, he went in there on his own I imagine, completely unprotected against the fire," the firefighter shook his head disapprovingly, "couldn't wait for us to do our jobs." He started to lift Matt's mask off, it was removed partly, but enough to expose his identity.

Her breath hitched in her throat, the realness of it hit her again. Nothing had changed. It was still him underneath it. Matt Murdock's head attached to the Daredevil suit. He had smears of soot and sweat glistening on his forehead.

Riley was at an utter loss at what to do. At least Matt's eyes were closed so that freakiness didn't have to be explained. "He's breathing, but he must have suffocated from the carbon dioxide. He might be in respiratory failure, but I'm not a doctor," said the firefighter.

"Neither am I. Rubble fell on him and totally knocked him out," and she went on to admit; "I still haven't decided where to take him."

He looked at her; "You're a cop aren't you?"

"How did you—?"

"I know an unmarked police car when I see one," he smirked but then quickly smiled sincerely. He tucked in Matt's foot and stood with her. "As for him; I doubt this was how he wanted people to find out who he was, if at all. You feel conflicted I bet."

She scoffed; "You have no idea."

"If it was me, I would be out of here getting him help. He saved my niece. I don't know what he's done for you, but I'm sure it wasn't nothing." The firelight glinted inside his dark irises speaking volumes of gratitude he felt towards Matt. "He matters to you in some way; you wouldn't have done the idiot thing and run into a fire to save him if he didn't. This is your call now."

He glanced over his shoulder for any of his team members coming down and then back at her. If someone like him- who had to save people from the brink of death on a daily basis -could see the value in saving and protecting Daredevil, so he could keep doing what he did for the city-

Then what was she still doing standing there with him?

"Get him somewhere safe," said the firefighter. "We owe him that. Go. Get out of here before they come!"

He shut the backseat door while watching the perimeter for his fellow firemen. Her focus pulled back, she did not waste any more time after that instruction. Riley nodded her thanks and ran to the driver's seat, starting the car before even closing her own door.

She drove off on the dirt road and into the night.

...

"Pick up, pick up," she mumbled as the dial tone rang endlessly. But Nelson didn't. _He's probably blissfully asleep while I deal with this shitshow in my backseat_. She left him a voice message; "hey, long story short; I have your best friend in the back of my car, there was a fire, he's unconscious. Please come over as soon as you get this." It was incredibly hard to keep the acidity out of the 'please' but she managed it.

A fleeting glance at Murdock informed her he was still unmoving. _Possibly dead too._ There had to be a way to wake him up. _Is there a vigilante handbook somewhere?_ What does he do when he's injured? _Find a black market surgeon? Does he dust himself off and fake it in the ER with the blind excuse?_

Stopping the car in an obscured area next to his apartment, she swung her legs into the backseat and opened the door.

Riley realized her adrenaline rush was coming to an end, leaving her exhausted but at the same time wired. And fuck. He was heavy. It didn't occur to her when she dragged him out earlier. She wasn't exactly at prime physical state to be hauling two hundred pounds of muscle around. Her throat was raw, it felt like there was a layer of black carbon coating her lungs. Her arms were still sore from lifting the concrete. They gave and she dropped him, he flopped like a fish; it was almost comical how it looked.

 _That's going to leave a lump on his head._

Digging her heels into the ground, she tried again; scooping him up by the underarms to prop him against her car as another issue became apparent; how she was going to casually get him into his building, up five flights of stairs, completely unnoticed.

An idea struck her. She unzipped her hoodie, and arranged it on his shoulders, flipping the hood on and pulling the strings tight to obscure the top half of the costume. She was hundred percent positive he would not approve of her styling choices if he was awake, but as it was, he had no choice, and neither did she.

She got his arm around her shoulders again. Riley carried him into the building. The five flights were like a trek up Everest. It was exhausting, lifting his weight up every single step to his apartment. _This is my workout for the entire year_. A parade of excuses she could give to stunned neighbors popped in her head should they decide to open their doors on this quiet evening; _'he likes to dress up early for Halloween,' 'it's a Cosplay costume…' 'We like to roleplay...'_

Humouring herself with that encouraged her to keep trudging upwards until they made it to his place.

She was sweating buckets by the time they reached the top. Riley picked the lock and finally they were inside. Her arms weighed like lead. She wanted to drop him like a sack of groceries in the hallway but she stumbled to the couch and laid him down on it. After that, she checked her stab wound, anticipating major damage there. Surprisingly everything was intact, the bandage adhesive only came undone a bit.

She sat on the coffee table, inspecting him, the mask wasn't attached to the suit and she was able to push the rest off his head. There was something slick on his chest, a darker shade than the red of the costume. She leaned forward and hovered closer, her fingers inches from touching it.

Riley gasped when his hand darted out like a viper and snatched her wrist, simultaneously bending it backwards.

"Ah. It's me," she cringed.

His eyes blinked rapidly, he frowned, confounded by her presence. "What are you doing here?" He demanded harshly. _I'm asking myself the same question._

He still hadn't let go of her wrist, the grip was tight, "Oh please don't stop, I love it when a guy gets rough," she said wryly.

"Sorry," he said breathlessly, unclasping it but still on edge. "What happened?"

"You passed out in the fire and I think you're bleeding," she rubbed the soreness out of her wrist.

"How did I get here?" He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, the muscle in his lower right leg tensing when he moved it.

"What do you remember?"

"The place was on fire, something fell on me, and I was stuck."

"I got you out and drove you here."

"Oh," he opened them again. He angled his to her, his unseeing gaze aimed somewhere above her left shoulder, "You—you ran in?"

She couldn't bear to discuss it and changed the topic. "Where's your first aid kit?"

He nestled back onto the couch, wearing a frown, "the shelves by the fridge."

"I left a message with Foggy, I thought he should know." She told him as she went to fetch it.

"He's going to love waking up to that voicemail," he sighed.

"I think the metal in the rubble scraped through your costume, you're bleeding."

"Yeah, the impact was blunt and fast," he grimaced as he touched the indents that cut into the fabric on his chest, "it pierced through it."

Riley washed her hands and retrieved the kit. "My head hurts like mad," he said rubbing the back of his neck tenderly.

"Might have been when I dropped you," she replied candidly, "or from getting smashed by a ton of concrete." He frowned in annoyance; it left a little smirk on her lips.

She was sat on the coffee table in exactly the same position he was in not too long ago when she was the one who needed the medical attention. She couldn't tell what his costume was made of. Riley wasn't an expert in that sort of thing, but it definitely was not giving any security to his nighttime hobbies.

 _Who even agrees to make his suits?_ She vaguely wondered.

"You know Kevlar was invented in 1964." She liked the loud slap the blue gloves made when she put them on. "It's pretty useful from what I've heard."

"It's too heavy," he awkwardly sat up on the couch.

She shrugged indifferently, getting the materials out of the kit and arranging them next to her so they were within reach. "Shouldn't your costume be made of more durable fabric?" Riley pointed out, "something that actually protects you?"

"You don't get it," Murdock reached over his head, but stretching his arms made him wince as pain bloomed from the wounds. She watched passively for a second before placing her hands on his elbows.

"Let me."

He seized up when she touched him, his face stalling. After a moment to consider it, he lowered his arms, turning to the back of the couch so she could reach behind him. The suit unzipped in one long clean line. With some discomfort, he managed to get the sleeves off himself.

"I guess I don't," she said. When the top of half of it was off, exposing his upper body, she had a full view of his entire torso and neck. Twisting, purple and red bruises were splashed across his chest and abdomen. She stared, or rather gawked at the multiple faint scars he kept secret from the world.

Layered on top were three cuts with streaks of dried blood running down from them. She raised a damp towel to them, he recoiled from it at first but then let her continue. She dabbed the blood away, he expressed some mild discomfort that passed swiftly.

"These will need stitches."

"Yeah, the one on the right is the deepest." Matt told her as he pressed near the pierced skin, he had a massive amount of self-control as he no longer flinched as much as he did before when she prodded it. She couldn't tell the difference in sizes between any of them. _He can take a beating and sense the depth of stab wounds. One talent at a time please._

"You can hear that or something?"

"Sort of, I can hear the depth the air travels into the cut when my chest rises and falls," he said.

"That was a lot of weird jam-packed one sentence. Super-hearing must help a lot huh."

He tried his damndest not to smirk but he couldn't conceal it from her. "It does. I can hear my heartbeat without a stethoscope. I can hear yours, too."

That only served to quicken the pace of her heart as she subconsciously thought about it. And like he read her mind he called her out on it, "and now that I mentioned it, its going faster."

"Stop," she said, getting unsettled. "Is that your goal? Do you always try to make people feel uncomfortable?"

"Sorry," he said abashedly and bit his lower lip, turning his head to the windows to avoid her look.

He was basically a human lie detector. Fitting, since there were meant to be no mores lies here between them. She was glad she had the proficient first aid skills to do suturing but a hospital had to be suggested sooner or later.

Matt's white scars looked to be from knife slashes. There was a thicker scar on his lower abdomen, it looked like it was deep and must have hurt. She recalled seeing it a while ago; she had wanted to ask if he had surgery to remove an appendix.

 _That was clearly far from the case though, wasn't it?_

But none of that threw her off compared to what was on his neck;

There were yellowing bruises her fingers had left behind from when she'd choked him on his living room floor. They were hidden by his shirt collar when he was dressed as lawyer-Matt but were in full view now.

"Admiring your handiwork?" He asked in way that made her chest constrict unpleasantly.

"I didn't notice it before." She tried to remain professional. "I didn't think it would've left anything," she muttered. She had clearly underestimated her own rage induced strength in that moment. "I'm going to start."

"Okay."

They were silent for a bit as she focused on getting the stitches done and keeping her hands steady. But the tension was palpable in the air. They were waiting for the other person to say the first word.

"Besides the obvious, are you alright?" It seemed like the normal thing to ask.

"I twisted my ankle, it's swelling up," he said tonelessly. His head swayed this way and that as he listened to his own body. "I have a mild concussion, partly your fault I bet."

"You're far from light," she said matter-of-factly.

He snorted. "Everything's going to bruise one way or another tomorrow, but at least I'm in one piece."

"Is that what you do to people?" She asked quietly, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Listen to people's conversations, their heartbeats- basically invade aspects of their being that is suppose to be private?"

He didn't take the comment too personally. "I learned how to filter 95% of it to get by. I pick and choose what I need when I'm on patrol. If I let it all in at once 24/7 I'd drive myself mad."

 _It's funny he calls it a 'patrol' when something like that occurs under completely different circumstances for me._ Riley had uniforms and radios and a partner to chat with inside a car, he had himself, the night, his ears and the roofs. "I think I should call an ambulance, we need experts to assess you, run diagnostic tests—"

"No. No hospital," his entire body tensed. Suddenly his fingers circled her wrist again but it wasn't an attack; "unless—please don't tell me you already called them—"

"No. I didn't."

"Good," he heaved a sigh of relief and let go of her. "The resident there is getting wary of me after seeing my scars and listening to my flimsy excuses. If I waltz into the ER after leaving a week ago, there will be more questions asked about me. I can't have that."

"True," she said unconvinced as she finished one cut and bandaged it. Riley began to replace the thread on the needle. "But you inhaled a lot of smoke, and the bruising looks awful too, what if you broke a rib?"

"I know I didn't break a rib," he told her knowingly, _yes_ _of course you didn't,_ _being the smartass, super-sensor hero you are_. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, "okay Dr. Matt, tell me when you got your medical license? Was it while you were in law school?"

He bent his head to force her to look at him, and said more firmly; "No. Hospital. Do you understand? I can't go back there again."

"Fine," she relented and started on the second cut. "What happened to Woodrugh?" She asked getting to the business side of things, _l_ _ike old times, but far from it._

"I don't know. When I got there, they were questioning someone. I did catch some chatter over the comms, it seems like not everyone made it out of the plant."

Her thoughts started to plummet into a pit. Had her ego jeopardized the investigation? Should she have taken his help? She wanted to react to it with guilt like she normally would, but had to hide it, because with his super senses, he would notice, wouldn't he? He could hear her goddamn heartbeat for crying out loud. She didn't want to be called out on whatever clockwork her body was doing. She had too much pride to let him in and see how she really felt just yet.

 _Or maybe he'll notice that too._

Riley wouldn't know how the events unfolded until she reported to Fitz later that day; it was going to have to be stored at the back of her mind until then.

The sun was starting to rise, the sky painted with brushstrokes of pale blue and pink. At least that's what it appeared to do above the hideous neon lights of the gigantic billboard that loomed smack-dab in front of the entire row of windows in his living room.

"I should have felt it," Matt started, crestfallen, "heard the first spark of the fire, I didn't think—" he shook his head; frustrated with himself for landing in the position he had been in. A position he would not have made it out of if it wasn't for her.

"No discomfort?" She asked, referring to her suturing, a diversion from the elephant in the room as she was not prepared to discuss anything just yet.

"I've dealt with worse injuries in the past."

"Evidently."

He was silent for a long, dragged out moment. His gaze pointed above her shoulder, which she took to be his version of staring at her. She instantly felt her heart race.

"Foggy told me he talked to you."

"Your friends care about you a lot," Riley said, bandaging as she spoke. "Frankly, you don't deserve them," it left her mouth before she could think about it.

After feeling no pain from the suturing, Matt finally winced at her cutting words. "Yeah I already have a mini-self loathing seminar to myself before I go to bed every night, you don't need to repeat it to me."

"Well, you're the one who has to answer to his wrath when he wakes up." She could feel the controlled focus of mending him was starting to lift like a grey fog, the tension replacing it. "Do you normally call him for help?"

"I try not to get myself into these kinds of situations in the first place."

"Not working out though, is that?"

"Not this time, no," he grated. "Riley," he grabbed her wrist, halting her motions, "cut the bullshit."

He caught her in a delicate position, one hand with the needle stuck between the two sides of the bleeding cut, the other holding the surgical scissors. She tilted her stare from his chest to his face, his jaw was tight, stony eyes the colour of jade.

"Why did you help me? You could have left me."

"I know," she said evenly.

"It was out of character."

"Maybe it was _in_ character," she countered. "You don't know me. I certainly don't know you."

He let go of her wrist. "You ran after me. You could have died. You could have just left me, and someone would have found me. I'd be gone, isn't that what you want?"

Riley didn't really know what she wanted. "I couldn't let you die in there." That much she knew was true.

"Would you care if I did?" He asked softly.

She swallowed, her breath unsteady, she knew he could sense it. She purposefully avoided looking up at him, trying to keep her hands as still as possible. "I didn't do it for you." That she knew was true as well.

Partly.

"But you didn't turn me in?"

"I was close to calling Alfie, he was there too, waiting to catch you, to seek retribution on my behalf."

"But you didn't call him?"

"I almost did. I had you exactly where I wanted you to be. And if I did we wouldn't be here," she told him tying off a stitch. "But I don't know how I would explain it to Alfie. I think he'd hate me forever, and I can't lose him. How do you constantly lie to someone you care about? It sucks. I just-" she shook her head, this was getting off-topic. "It's hard."

He wore a tired, forlorn smile, "I know the feeling," he said. "So what happens now?"

"You're alive, the slate is clean. I did you a favour, let's leave it." Riley did what she did for the people who needed him, for that firefighter, for his niece. She smoothed the last bandage over him and put down the surgical supplies. "All done."

She should know better that he couldn't just 'leave it'. "So that's it? You leave?"

"Don't for a minute think I'm forgiving you." Riley stiffly warned, taking her gloves off.

She saw a tick in his jaw but he calmly said, "I thought you would have changed your mind."

"I told you what happens when you interfere with—"

"—Your cases," he finished for her, raking his hair in frustration. "Yeah I've heard this story before. But I have my duty, and I'm sticking to it."

 _Here we go._ "I know you think it is, and you won't listen to me if I tell you it isn't. But you need to be more careful. It's not my fault you almost died, I didn't ask you to walk into a room of fire."

"I didn't ask you too, either," he sharply reminded.

"Wow," she raised her brows, "considering how much I risked getting you out of there, a 'thank you' would be nice."

He cringed and sighed deeply, realising he sounded like an ungrateful asshole. "Thank you. I mean it," he said earnestly, "I'd be dead if you hadn't saved me."

A beat of silence. Riley knew he meant it wholeheartedly, but too much had been said. They seemed to unexpectedly bring out the worst of each other when they argued, stubborn parts of them that were never willing to compromise.

She stood, "I guess we're even. You saved my life; I save yours."

"No," he shook his head, strongly disagreeing. "This isn't a contest, or a matter of who owes who what. It was never like that."

Another beat of silence. "Is was for me," she said. "I owed you one." He wasn't happy with her conclusion. "You know if I didn't find you. Then what would Foggy have done if he woke up to hear that you died?" She asked, "And what about Karen?"

"I honestly don't know." He stood up suddenly, his chest bare, the sides of his Daredevil suit hanging from just below his waist. He was almost a head taller. "I know what you're insinuating. I do care about my friends. I despise the fact that you think I don't. I care about them just as much as you care about Tommy and Alfie. Don't bring them into this," he snapped with Daredevil fierceness. "This is between you and me. You keep blaming me for everything. But you were in this with me too, did you forget? But you don't see it that way do you? You somehow think we're not on the same level but we are."

Maybe she had once been prepared to be dragged down with him, but that was a white lie she told herself to get by. If she couldn't tell Alfie the truth when she had Matt in full costume and unconscious, then she would never be able too.

She was just as much a fraud as he was.

"I'm sorry I lied," he said, his face twisting . "I'm sorry you got hurt. I can't change that, I wish I could. But nothing is working," his voice wavered as if he was going to give up on is stance but her kept going. "You don't trust me, and that means I can't trust you either. Is that what you'd rather have?" He gritted out, giving her a dose of her own medicine.

"I guess you finally understand where I'm coming from, when it comes to breaking someone's trust," she said, annoyed, trying to push past him.

"I won't apologize for who I am," he told her without a doubt in his voice. "I believe what I do for this city is making a difference, so don't tell me to stay out of your way, because I will do whatever I want and whatever I think is right, and you're not going to do a single goddamn thing to stop me."

"Right, so next time I'll just let the fire do it's job and kill you," she shot back and successfully got away from him to make her way to the hall. "You want to know why I saved you? I didn't want it on my conscience. I already dream about-" she let out a breath, refraining from delving there in that dark passage of her head, "if I had let you die, I wouldn't have been able to look anyone in the eye, not Tommy, or Foggy or Karen."

"You have nightmares about Rob?" He asked, catching onto that.

"Sometimes," she said, even though the reality was _every_ night. She realised he knew she was lying.

"I'm sorry you have to go through that," he replied. It was almost as if they were back in that room with the single light bulb, and she was untying him and holding him. Back when none of this was true yet, it was far simpler times then.

"I am not going to apologise for I am either," she told him, "but rest assured I'm not going to go after your friends. They don't deserve to suffer for what you do."

"And me?"

"You're on your own," she said stonily.

"I have you by the throat and you have me."

"One of us talks and it's mutually assured self-destruction. Brilliant," she replied voice steeped in sarcasm.

"Then we just have to stay out of each other's way as much as we can."

As bitter as this parting was, she agreed. "After Tommy's trial, I won't have to see you again, and we can pretend that we were never partners, or even friends, does that sound good?"

His shoulders fell, he smacked his lips, "seems like the best option for both of us." He breathed out slowly and lifted a hand behind her; "you should leave."

They were at an impasse. Riley had half a mind to restart the argument once more, go in circles until she was satisfied. But what was the point in fighting? Better they severed ties like mature adults and go their separate paths. She hated not having a decent last word though. Riley backed a step; "Gladly," she replied and stormed out.

* * *

 _Ugh when will the fighting come to an end?! Please comment, review or fav! xx_


	23. Chapter 23

_**Hey guys! I just wanted to let you know that I read all of your reviews and I truly appreciate the support this story gets. You guys are the best!**_ _ **Enjoy xx**_

* * *

 _Matt_

He sat on a space in his living room, legs crossed, meditating with the warmth of the rising sun on his back. Sleep escaped him, and so did his appetite. He could not properly do anything until he had a session of internal peace and quiet. There was no city, no Riley Knight, no fire here.

Even as he tried to block his senses, he could hear Foggy huffing as he half-jogged half-sped walked towards his apartment block. Matt knew he had a lot of explaining to do. The quietness would have to be broken temporarily. He stood up slowly, body and joints aching, his chest tender.

"Hey Foggy," he said as he opened the door to his best friend.

At first he was taken aback to see Matt standing but it clicked with him that whatever injuries he sustained had not been that horrible. "Don't 'hey Foggy,' me! Could you please schedule your near-death experiences on days I _don't_ have to be in court?" He shouldered past him to go inside.

He rubbed his eyes. "Shit. I totally forgot."

They walked over to the living room, Foggy taking swift, determined strides. "There was something about a fire?" He waved his phone at Matt, squinting at him and inspecting him. "You still have a head full of hair. You look okay."

Matt lifted his shirt to reveal the bruises and bandages; Foggy widened his gaze, thoroughly retracting his statement. "Fuck. Nevermind."

"Concrete fell on me," he told him sombrely. "I called Claire she's coming over in a bit," _another round of shouting could be expected then._ "You should get to court. I'm fine; you didn't have to come all the way over."

Foggy gave him a blank look. "Too late. You're lucky I got dressed in my suit before leaving; I can't swing punches at you 'cause it'll crease the arm holes," he warned smoothing out the sleeves, and then his gaze hardened on him. "You're really freaking lucky she was there Matt."

He felt like he was swallowing a very large pill, "I know."

"You _know_?" Foggy echoed mockingly. "What if she hadn't run in, she could have easily not given a shit! Both of our mornings would not have been like this, hell you wouldn't have a morning," he snapped.

"It was stupid. I've accepted that," he gritted, suddenly exhausted, sitting down on the couch. "I was reckless."

Foggy's hands were in fists. "Gah! I can't get pissed at you if you're acknowledging your mistakes." He sighed in exasperation as he checked his watch. "We're gonna have to continue this later, I have to go to court."

Matt shrugged his shoulders dejectedly. "Good. I really just want to go back to bed," he lied down on the couch, remembering that the detective had been here with him not even six hours ago, everything was changing so fast.

Foggy took note of his solemnness, and had to hold back on leaving. He became more patient and less stern with him. He exhaled, "so...did you at least fix whatever you had between each other?"

His head was tilted to the ceiling, he closed his eyes and recalled that strain he felt in his chest when he spoke to her. He had stood his ground, he defended his actions, and he apologized. He did everything right, he went in with good intentions, he knew he did. But he felt like a pile of shit nonetheless. "I think we might have come to an understanding."

"Is that a yes, or no?" Foggy bit out. "I can't do anything with a vague 'understanding'."

"We're not going to snitch on each other," replied Matt. "We go our separate ways."

"Seems mature," said Foggy with a stiff nod. "Okay, not bad." He was reassuring himself for both of them, Matt just sighed, defeated on the couch.

"Except you don't look too pleased."

"I thought I would be."

He held his index finger up cautiously. "Okay, I know that look you have. It's a tale as old as time Matt. That _look."_ He adamantly pointed at his face with vehement disapproval. "No. Okay? _No_. I don't like it."

"I know you don't. But it's not what you think it is. I've had more time to think," he swallowed, after speaking to her and getting time to arrange his thoughts he'd come to a more solid and reasonable conclusion. "It's hard to admit, after how much we antagonized each other. But it was good to have someone by my side."

Foggy raised his brows, surprised, possibly a little offended, but Matt quickly explained what he meant; "And I'm not saying that you never were, but it was different to have someone actually there, helping me, in a way I did not think was possible."

His best friend shook his head and sat down next to him on the couch, "you can't depend on her Matt, you need to figure out a better strategy now. I'll tell you this; you were doing this before you met her and you took down Fisk. You don't need her." He checked his watch once more and got to his feet. "I'm really late for court. I don't want anymore of this getting in the way of our firm," said Foggy resolutely. "I have to go, I don't have time to analyze whatever you're feeling." He waved his hand in circles at Matt's direction. "I'll come over later and we are going to talk. I don't have to tell you, you look like crap, please, please eat something," Foggy begged clasping his hands together as he turned to leave.

Matt sat up on one arm and mustered a tired smile that was difficult to conjure. "Thanks Fog, don't worry about me for now, go win the case."

Foggy was right he couldn't depend on Riley Knight, and he never should have. He was a lone man in this, it always had to be that way, partners were just a liability.

...

A few days later, he had not come into the presence of Knight even at the precinct or elsewhere. She was just another cop in a group of them, nothing more. He and Foggy had a delicate peace between them since he got shot in the leg, and nearly getting burned to death could have put an irreparable dent in their friendship. Luckily for him, it didn't. His afternoons were spent talking to his best friend, who was willing to listen to his Daredevil issues for a change no matter how much Foggy winced and wanted to protest against his actions.

Moreover, he had other things to be concerned about. There had been another massacre similar to what happened to the Irish. _At least they're not blaming me for this one._

The Dogs of Hell had been hit at one of their basement bars. The numbers lost were not devastating but they were not a large gang. Another hit like this and they wouldn't be able to fill up their ranks for them to make any kind of worthy contribution to the seedy underbelly of crime in the city. Even if it went against his moral code, the more gang members dead, the less crime they he had to stop.

 _But this isn't my kind of justice._

The police arrived on the scene first; the CI department was collecting evidence in their white hazmat suits. Many of them were lingering and chatting amongst themselves, loading body bags onto a van to take to the morgue. He resolved to patiently wait for the last of them to empty out so he could investigate the scene himself.

And just when he thought he was in the clear. She was there.

The detective knew how to search for him as he stepped from the ledge while the uniformed officers tape off the crime scene from the public. She caught him in her peripheral and he leaned back into the darkness, his stomach twisting. It seemed like he could never get a proper opportunity to fully move on from the events of the last month before something else forced their paths to intersect.

She frowned and swallowed, unsettled. Unsure of what she had seen, she stared at the spot where his head had vacated and then down at her notepad, her pen scratching on the paper; _"I hope you know what you're doing Murdock,"_ she whispered. But he knew it was directed at him even if he was a hundred feet away from her.

 _She hopes I fail, is what she really means._

It didn't matter to her whether he caught her warning or not, she would never know what his exact reaction was, but she probably enjoyed the possibility of inadvertently tormenting him with her whispers.

Naturally he wasn't going to listen to a damn thing she said and break into the crime scene anyway.

" _Who're you talking too?"_ Alfonso Valentine asked her as he sidled up to her, handing his notes over.

" _I like to talk out loud to Daredevil in case he's around and listening. Really gets me in the zone during these anti-vigilante task force outings."_ Matt's stomach leapt to his throat. She smiled wickedly to herself, aware he could be listening, and then glanced at Alfonso from her note pad, _"I'm just fucking with you."_

Their combined laugh sawed through him. _Even when we choose to ignore each other she still gets under my skin._ It had not been long since the fire, his physical bruises were still yellowing, and their final confrontation still rung in his head, and probably in hers too. He cursed and Foggy would have regarded his use of swear words as very ungentlemanly.

 _"They're calling him 'The Punisher'?"_ She asked Alfie after skimming his notes, snickering at the new moniker the DA was giving the murderer. _"Becareful he might actually start using it."_

Matt prayed this would be the last of their almost encounters. Her brother's trial was soon and then they'd finally be rid of each other. For now, he pushed her out of his mind and went back to work.

* * *

 _Riley_

A week later, she had her breakfast at her favourite diner. Her spot was the same for a decade now, _our spot_. She and Amy would sit there in the red faux leather booth and talk about anything and everything for hours non-stop, getting a direct view of the kitchen staff dinging the order bell from where they sat, observing the southbound bus stop down the street. They had watched seasons came and go from that spot. Times where there would be a golden leaf stuck outside on the window pane with the wind fluttering its edges, times where raindrops slid down the glass, or dust stains formed after the rain dried. But like the majority of her meals she was by herself. It was a new decade where Riley sat alone in the booth, an empty seat across from her.

She contemplatively stirred her tea, staring at the newspaper on the table by her elbow but not actually reading it. The mornings were the only time during the day when she wasn't busy or tired from work. But even watching the regulars and new customers of the diner couldn't distract her from the thoughts that clouded her mind.

She realized she had to let a lot of things go over the past few months. Cases, friends; sacrifices she continuously made to protect the ones she loved…that had ended badly for her in one-way or another. She had to work on letting go of a lot of bitterness too, and was finding it hard to build an armour of indifference to someone she had wanted to care about.

It was hard to find faith in anything these days. She wanted to have faith in herself, in her actions, in the justice system. But each of those had miserably failed her at some point in time. She stopped going to church. Associating the holy place and Father Lathom with Matt. It was a shame, since she liked talking to the pastor. She wondered if the Father noticed her absence… if Matt did too.

He was an impartial listener that she didn't know she needed. And without him her anxiety and PTSD was slithering over her shoulder with its black eyes and menacing grin. But this time there was more fuel to feed the dark beast post-kidnap and torture and Daredevil revelation. It was a miracle she wasn't in bed everyday shivering beneath the covers, hiding from the world in her comfortable nest.

Sister Margaret from Catholic School would have swatted her head for avoiding Mass for the pathetic reason of a boy. Riley shook her head and sipped her tea. It had gone lukewarm by then.

"Don't frown too much hun, you'll wrinkle that pretty face before your time."

She glanced up at the friendly voice; Julie was a long-time waitress at the diner, at least two decades her senior. She knew Riley, Amy and Alfie for years now since their academy days.

Riley smirked, resting the spoon on the saucer, welcoming the pleasant distraction. "I have too much to be worried about Jules. Who knows maybe the wrinkles will suit me?"

"Only men age well darling," she said, sighing and started to pick up Riley's empty plates. "Just look at your mum and dad, you'll see."

"Never met my dad." _And I never want too._ "I think you are right though, judging from my mum, I'll probably end up looking like her when I'm older." Not that her mother was a haggard witch, _she's another word that rhymes with that_ , but they definitely looked alike. _I just never want to_ be _her._

"You did say you have her blue eyes," Jules expertly balanced plates on the tray. Riley handed her the used silverware and then reached for her wallet.

"Oh someone already covered it for you love."

She drew up, disconcerted. "Who?"

Julie pointed behind her. Her smile withered. Foggy Nelson sat atop a stool at the counter, waving enthusiastically with an annoyingly jolly smile that made Riley want to smack him across the head.

 _What the hell is he doing here?_

"A friend from work?"

"Sort of," she grunted.

"Should I get him a menu?"

"No, he won't stay long."

Matt needed to have a word with his best friend about boundaries. These unplanned meetings outside of their firm were becoming too much. She supposed Foggy must feel that they share a huge secret together now, and she could help take the burden off him.

She stood and turned and he was there.

"I need to talk to you," he said, gravely.

"No shit."

Nelson cocked his head to Julie behind her, tilting his chin to her. "You said she would be in a good mood after her breakfast Jules." Only someone like Foggy Nelson would dare to use sass on the waitress.

She scoffed, resting a hand on her hip, arching a perfect eyebrow. "I never made that promise young man."

Riley thanked her and then pushed the exit door, the bell dinging above her. Nelson followed her outside onto the pavement, she didn't slow down for him.

"Did Murdock send you?" She dove right to the point.

"Well it's not like he can approach you himself these days," replied Nelson, and then more gently mentioned; "he's really grateful though. And so am I, for what you did for him."

"I didn't do it for him," Riley responded not missing a beat as she stalked towards the precinct, Foggy following beside her.

"I get that, but this isn't really about him. It's about those girls. The night you two met." That made her brisk pace falter. He looked to her austerely; "you're the only cop on the force who can make a difference."

"That's flattering Nelson," she was appreciative of the praise but even more impatient to get this conversation over with. "But I'm not just one cop, I have a boss, I'm part of a team, and we have enough to deal with. Someone else is dealing with that case, Matt knows this."

"And can you trust that person?" Nelson asked cagily, "this Frank Sinjon?"

In-between going undercover and then getting kidnapped a few days later, she honestly had not given much thought to it. "I don't know," she was frustrated he would even ask her. "The mafia is trafficking girls and drugs, Matt and I, even together we would never be able to stop them," she told him. The network was too big for one person to take down. It might have been easier when it was Fisk being the kingpin but the fractions he had ruled had since broken off to start claiming their own kingdoms. "You're both wasting your time trying to convince me to do anything. Why do you even bother Foggy?" She prodded, "Matt chose to go enforce justice and do his 'duty' solo, you don't have to speak for him. You don't have to rope yourself into this."

He smacked his lips, looking embarrassed; "ummm, he doesn't know I'm talking to you."

She let out a sharp laugh; "that didn't work out last time. And now you're keeping secrets from each other, are sure he's not rubbing off on you?"

"But you saved you him, didn't you?" He countered, and rightly so. That argument made her shut up for a second. _I did it for the people, not for him._

Foggy held up his palms to quash her animosity; "Look. This isn't about saving him anyway. I've been getting him to open up to me for the past few weeks, tell me what exactly he's been up against. I hate asking him anything remotely related to it, but I needed all the details."

"He should stick to his day job. I'm sure you realize by now what he does is suicide. Exhibit A: the fire that nearly killed him."

"Yeah a lot of the times it is," Nelson conceded, but he took a breath in, clearly not done with his argument, wherever it was going; "but I know about Sweeney, the Italians, the Dogs of Hell, the massacres, the list goes on. It's fucking crazy to listen to the odds being stacked against him, against all of us living here," he looked extremely distressed by it, threading his fingers through his floppy blonde hair.

Matt was clever to keep those secrets from his best friend, and Foggy had been unwise to ask for them. Now he knew, now he couldn't let it go so easily. When you go deep and expose what's under the rug it takes sheer force of will to pretend it doesn't exist in order to get on with your manicured life. But some people can't go on denying it.

Matt couldn't live like that, and neither could Riley.

Maybe they had a lot more in common than she would like to admit.

He sighed shakily, with a bleak look, "Karen once said that all she saw here was dark corners."

She snorted; "Karen's smart, she knows what she's talking about." Karen Page and Riley never did see eye-to-eye. She could tell Karen was somehow different from Matt and Foggy. Evidently from what he shared, she had a underlying grit to her that you couldn't immediately see beneath those sheets of gold hair, big blue eyes and kind smile. The only difference between the two women was that Riley had never been skilled at hiding her resting bitch face, being totally fed up with the shit world they lived in most hours of the day.

"I wish that wasn't true," said Foggy, heartfelt and innocent. "I wish this was somewhere your brother and my family could live peacefully, but it isn't."

Riley felt sorry for him, she wished she could say Matt and her were the only heroes the city needed, that everything would be fixed one day but she couldn't promise that, and Matt couldn't either.

He was quiet, they stopped walking and stood near the bus stop, a remoteness to him as he said; "My brother's car got hit really bad when some assholes fled in a truck after a robbery, I thought he was gonna die."

"I didn't know," she said with a gasp, and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry. How is he?"

"He's been recuperating. His leg is broken, but he's alive," he replied stiffly.

She dropped her hand from his shoulder, "did you find the people who did it?"

He lifted his gaze to hers, "Matt did," he replied with silent pride.

She didn't know how to feel, happy that he had gotten justice for his brother, shocked that he allowed it to happen via Daredevil when he was a strong opposer of Matt's choices, or envious that the best friends had no secrets between each other. _Somehow Matt convinced Foggy to his side now._

He got a little lost in his memory. "I remember the night it happened very well. I was pulling an all-nighter for a case and then I get a phone call, my mum's crying and my dad just— he's doing his best but I know he wasn't on the inside. I was exhausted, but I needed to be there. And I needed help," explained Foggy. "I called Matt; he was pulled into two different directions that night. I asked him to prep for the case that morning, I asked him to not be Daredevil, just for one evening. He prepped for it with no sleep, and then went to the docks to help you save that dirty cop and his family." Of course the conversation had to come back full circle to the topic of her and Matt. "That cop didn't deserve to be saved, I told him that, but he did it for you."

"That was before," she retorted stonily. "You both know that."

He shook his hand downwards disregarding everything said; "whatever okay, it doesn't matter. He came across some valuable intel. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you would find it useful too," said Nelson. "You're both stubborn as hell. And he doesn't want to ask for your help. I'm asking for him because I know he needs it. I don't want him to get that close to death again."

 _Unlikely that won't happen._ "What is this valuable intel?" She asked warily, intending to draw it out of Nelson before he suggested she swallow her pride and call Matt.

He steadied his serious gaze on her; "What if I told you, you could stop all the bad guys in one fell swoop?"

...

Later that afternoon she was still thinking about what Nelson shared with her. The gist of it was; a huge alliance between all the crime families. Any notion of warring between them thrown out the window if everyone worked together. The burning question was; who would lead them? If there would be any leader. And what interested Riley more was; when and where was it going to occur? _And how am I going to get a front row seat in order to stop it from happening?_

At the moment she was standing in Fitz office waiting for him to come inside. Work was starting to pick up again for her as her recovery was set on the right track. She wasn't always stuck on desk duty, and she should be able to contribute more to fieldwork soon.

Fitzgerald shut the door behind him, he looked uneasy, as if he had some difficult information to deliver. "Sit down."

"Okay," she looked at him guarded, and took the seat.

"I have news on your kidnapping," reported Fitz. Riley sat straighter in her chair, it had been haunting her for weeks. _Finally they've gotten somewhere_. However, she could tell from Fitz knitted brows and how he tiptoed around her feelings that he had dire news. "We spoke to Jonah; we had to dig around some—"

"Just tell me," she interrupted, unable to take the waiting anymore. Cops liked to elaborately explain how they came to whatever conclusion they had, she loved doing that too. But there was time for that afterwards. She just wanted answer, clarity, and for her nightmares to be over.

"We know why you were taken, but we found out who ordered it," he said carefully like he was walking on a lake of ice. "Unfortunately, the team and that red costumed cat have been making things difficult for a man named Roscoe Sweeney."

She processed it like rainfall, it was slow unassuming droplets of rain at first, and then suddenly a monsoon beating down on her. "Oh," she gulped down the rising panic, resting into the chair. It had to be him. _Roscoe Sweeney,_ the _Roscoe Sweeney, who threatened my brother who was the very reason I even chose to associate myself with the likes of Matt Murdock._

"I take it you know who he is?"

"He's Irish. He's been gone for decades," she replied, stiff as a plank.

"He's back."

"So he was the one who ordered Rob to take Murdock and I?"

Fitzgerald nodded severely. "We are right under his radar now. But more than that; Rob Sweeney was Roscoe's brother. You killed him," he solemnly informed her and leaned forward;

"Sweeney's put a bounty on your head."

It hit her like freight train at full speed. She heard her breathe catch in her throat; she felt a bit dizzy, fear and adrenaline surging through her veins. She wanted to ask him to repeat what he said, but she knew it had not been a misinterpretation. Riley glanced off at the window behind him, letting it sink in as she devised an answer to this earth-shattering statement that could upend and literally _end_ her entire life.

"How much?" She managed to ask, even if her throat wanted to collapse.

"200,000. Orders are for a dead body."

Riley doubted any alien appearing in the sky could even top being on someone's Hit list. _He wants me dead. Me. Riley Knight._ She always had a self-deprecating sense of humor, and a similar sense of being, in all honesty. She never considered herself even remotely important; not to herself, not to her brother, her mother. Anyone. Now someone was _paying_ to see her corpse. _Paying anyone to make that happen._ She had pissed off the Irish mafia and this was what the consequences looked like.

"He's after Daredevil too I presume. But that fucker was asking for it really." Riley completely forgot Fitz's presence in the room, if he was trying to console her by adding that she wasn't the only person Sweeney wanted dead, then he was making a poor job of it. "You did what you did to protect yourself and Murdock. Have you gone through something like this before?"

She realized she was anxiously scratching her nails into her palms again and fiddling with her keys. "Not exactly, people have tried to harm me of course, but no one's ever raised the stakes like this."

"If Sweeney's reach is as far as it is deep within this city, this rumor will catch on and spread like wildfire. Every Tom, Dick and Harry who thinks he's the shit is going to descend upon you. If you want it, we can put you in protective custody. I would recommend it."

 _Of course he would, any sane person would._ She snapped out of the chilling reverie of her funeral. "No sir. They're not going to think twice, they'll pop two of our guys to get to me. I don't want any patrol officers getting killed." She had never been surer of how she felt about that more than she did then. "I'll be fine. I just have to watch my back. In the meantime we have to get him, somehow. And not just him, all of them."

 _And I know just the person to help me do that. In one fell swoop._

* * *

 _Matt_

When he arrived at the precinct he expected it to be another typical working day for the unassuming blind defense attorney that he was. McDavis, the desk sergeant, trying another one-liner on him, Foggy bargaining with Mahoney for cases, and the pair of them being an outlet for disgruntled police officers to aim their disdainful whispers at. Normal occurrences. He tried hard not to search for any particular detective's voice in the station, instead keeping his attention on Mahoney and Foggy in front of him.

"…I swear to God if Murdock keeps zoning out on me, I'm gonna start taking these offences to heart," cracked Mahoney with a dissatisfied smirk.

"Sorry," he awkwardly replied.

Before he could even measure the moment, Riley Knight emerged from the lift, locked her eyes on the trio, and made a beeline for him without a second of trepidation. It left Matt stuttering to make an excuse for him and Foggy to leave as fast as they could. His heart pounded.

 _What is she doing?_

"Hey fellas, I need to borrow Murdock for a second."

While Matt and Mahoney were both bewildered, Foggy was not as shocked as he should be. Matt cast him an irritated look before returning to her unable, to conceal his bitterness, "okay," he told her rigidly, finding his voice. He let take her his arm and guide him to the emptier hallway.

" _Did I miss something?"_ Mahoney teased with a playful nod to Matt and Riley.

Foggy's laugh masked his jitteriness, he casually waved a hand; _"Oh the usual—Matt doesn't like to brag but he's quite the ladiesman."_

 _Oh he's sorely mistaken if he thinks I'm not going to throttle him later for this._

Once they were out of earshot, Matt shook her hand off his arm. "What happened to staying out of each other's lives? It was going so well for two weeks," he dove right into his attack. "What you pulled at the Dogs of Hell massacre wasn't cool." _Turns out I wasn't over that like I thought I was._

She was taken aback by his quick-tongued greeting, he was capable of witty remarks before but he never was this savage towards her. It surprised him too. "Wasn't sure if you were really there."

He scoffed derisively, he was sick of bad liars; "you knew I was."

"I suppose you went and disturbed the crime scene anyway." She narrowed her eyes on him; "and if you have been eavesdropping on my private conversations you'll know I haven't done anything to jeopardize your double life."

A glacier-like coolness passed over his face; "I think you're overestimating how much I actually care."

Her lips curled inwards at that cutting remark, he was glad that it burned her. But she wasn't interested in trading barbs. "I know we left on a sour note. But I'm not here to argue, in fact I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for—"

"I guess Foggy talked to you didn't he? He's been doing that a lot lately."

"Yeah, ruined my morning," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "But it was good that he did. So a meeting between all the crimes bosses. You're sure?"

He gave deprecating shake of his head, _Foggy just had to share that didn't he?_ He greatly enjoyed sharing news of his patrols with his best friend, and he didn't want to feel betrayed by him, but clearly there was a moment where he shared too much and it had frightened Foggy. "You weren't supposed to know. He shouldn't have involved you," he said through clenched teeth.

"Well he did," she was hard set on haggling more out of him. "Now tell me."

He let out a short, incredulous laugh. _The gall she has._ "With all due respect; you do realize that I don't have to tell you anything right? I don't take orders from you," he gladly reminded her.

Unexpectedly, that set her off the rails; "I'm not giving you a fucking order," her volume rose a little too high and stole glances from two passing officers. She leaned closer to him to whisper; "Sweeney's going to be at the meeting, isn't he?"

"I think so."

"You know I have a vested interest in him," she entreated, breaking the animosity she showed him to reveal something more genuine. _Fear._ But Matt didn't want to call her out on it in case he was mistaken. "Please, tell me when and where. I need to know."

 _An actual plea? There must be something wrong with her_. But he wasn't in an empathetic or trusting mood, and he wasn't going to fall into any trap. "No. If I do, you're going to bulldoze the meeting with some NYPD task force that I don't trust. After the Reeding incident it's hard to put my faith in the 15th precinct. If all the crime bosses are gathered it's obvious some of them would have paid off many cops to stay out of the meeting. No one knows about this, I'd rather keep it that way."

Her mouth opened and hit the floor, "this could be one of the biggest mafia alliances since Fisk was arrested. Those crime bosses will be at the meeting with their footmen, _armed_ footmen. And you are not an army, you're one man. You won't succeed, haven't you learnt anything?"

"I've beaten worse odds."

"I'll find people I can trust."

"Who?" He countered, "they either have their hands tied in other cases or you have to go through a mountain of paperwork. Not to mention you need to convince your uptight captain who has a finger up his own ass if you actually want anything done."

"Watch it Murdock," she warned him leaning in closer. "I want justice for Daria just as much as you do, for everyone who's been screwed over by Sweeney and monsters like him."

Her demeanour had calmed and as unsolicited as it was, so did his. "I know you do. But I'm doing it my way," he told her, unwavering in his stance.

"And you're going to stop all of them on your own?"

"If I have too," he moved his cane back in the direction where Foggy was, ending the discourse. "With no cops needed. And for valid reasons since Sweeney is of interest to you-I am going through with my plan and I'll let you know where to find them after I'm done."

She burned holes into him as he walked away. He didn't ask her to lead him back, which would have been a huge, glaring mistake on his part, since he was in a lobby chock-full of strangers and acquaintances that thought he was legally blind. Fortunately Foggy reached him on time before it became too suspicious and they exited the station together.

* * *

 _Riley_

She called an emergency meeting with the two most important people in her life.

"200,000 is a lot," Alfie blurted drearily, taking a sip from his beer bottle. He, Tommy and Riley were in her apartment sat around the dining table. She'd given the news to Alf earlier at the station before they drove together to her place.

She was still pissed at Matt for being such a stubborn prick, they really knew how to grind the other's gears. Now when she wanted something from him he was denying it, it sucked to have the tables turned. _And what if he can't fight them on his own? What if he loses? Then all of us are still at a loss. I'd still be on Sweeney's Hitlist._ She could agree to his plan and tag along with him, but she'd risk getting shot, or worse. Not to mention, she would be delivering herself like a prize on a silver platter to her enemies. It was illogical.

But so was her standing by doing nothing but waiting.

She was tempted to tell Matt the real reason she wanted to arrest Sweeney at the meeting, but what would have been the point? _He doesn't care._ Come to think of, even if she did arrest Sweeney, the families were large in number with many male heirs, another would rise in his place amongst the Irish and carry out his orders to kill her while he was in jail.

Every outcome ended with her death. It was futile.

But maybe this didn't have to end badly for everyone involved.

Fitzgerald gave her the rest of the day off to settle anything at home, he understood that she had responsibilities outside of work, mainly her brother.

"Yeah, I realize," she stared at the dewdrops on the bottle, feeling utterly lost. "Heck, I would kill myself too." It was the wrong joke to make, but she couldn't help her morose sense of humor in times like these. It was the tool she used to cope with the abject terror she actually felt.

"That's not funny Riley," snapped Tommy across from her, getting more infuriated as the minutes passed. He wasn't taking the news well.

"I'm sorry," she turned her glance to her little brother. "My sarcasm just gets worse when I'm stressed, and when someone wants to assassinate me."

"Fitz offered protective custody?" Alfie asked.

"I didn't take it."

"Riley, come on," his hand fell to the table, "you've got to be fucking kidding me."

"And he just agreed to let you walk around with the possibility of someone shooting you?" Tommy butted in, getting worked up. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

 _Many things, unfortunately._ "If I took every single threat against me to heart, then I'd be living under rock in the middle of the ocean, where no one could find me. No one can live like that."

Alfie shook his head, pointing the lip of the beer bottle at Tommy. "That's your sister for you."

She sent him a glare, "You're not helping Alfie."

"Damn right, Fitzgerald said it himself to you; anyone who owns a gun who gets whiff of this is going to come after you."

"Oh my God," Tommy's head fell into his hands; he rubbed his eyes with the sole of his palms. He was terrified, and nothing she could say could make this better.

"I know. But I am not leaving," Riley reached over and clutched his shoulder. "You, on the other hand, you have to go stay with mum."

He looked like she just told him to jump off a bridge into a fiery pit in hell. _Although, v_ _isiting our mum is like having to face the devil himself sometimes._ "No. No come on," he shook his head adamantly, until she had to release his shoulder with the strength of his protests.

She signalled Alfie to go wander somewhere else in the apartment while she spoke to Tommy, he obliged with a look of heavy rebuke towards her decisions. _No matter what I do no one is ever happy_. "I'll need another drink," he announced taking the beer bottle with him to go hang out on the balcony.

She turned back to Tommy. "You can't be living with me here, not right now."

"I don't like this."

"I know you can't stand her."

He raked both his hands through his hair, distraught, "I don't care about that!" He stood, throwing his arms out at her; "you're talking like there's nothing more to be done, like you're already dead."

Being dead was the last thing she wanted to think about, since the possibilities it could actually happen were increasing in number. "I'm being cautious here."

"How?"

"I don't want you to be away from me either," she said, trying to soothe his frustration.

"Then don't send me away!"

"This isn't like it used to be with me sending you off to some rehab. You're doing so much better compared to when you first got here. Everyone can see it." She breathed in deeply, "a lot of shit has happened to me these past few months, I can't even begin to describe it you. It feels like I have worms in my stomach when I think about it." It was losing Amy, losing her faith in her job, losing Alfie, the lies, the deceit, the mistakes piling up on her shoulders, weighing her down. She had to do something right for a change. And that was to ensure he wasn't anywhere near her when shit hits the fan.

He took what she said to heart and soberly nodded; "I get it."

"I've been trying to do so many things and none of it is working, I keep...losing sight of what I really need to do," she tried to explain to him, but was failing. How was she supposed to get her message across without totally spilling the truth to him and Alfie?

"What if something happens?" He asked. "When you got stabbed I-I wanted to piss my pants I was so scared. I mean I know I was making jokes but it was hard to even smile," he said helplessly, adding knots to the ones already twisting her stomach.

"I'm sorry, it hasn't been easy, I know."

"Now that son-of bitch who kidnapped you is doing _this?_ It's not fair," he stabbed the table, his eyes alight like hot coals.

"If you're not here, I can focus on making sure this place is safe when you come back. That we can both be safe. Someone has to do it Tommy, it has to be me."

"Why?"

That was the million dollar question, _why_. Why did she have to walk around hauling the weight of this bloody, ungrateful Earth on her shoulders? Why Riley Knight? _Why Matt Murdock?_ 'Hero complex' she wanted to say to him, but how would that even help the situation? "It's hard to explain," she said dismissing it. "But I'm begging you. I need you to be safe. I trust you so please trust me. It won't be for long I promise. Your trial is soon; I'll bring you back closer to its date. I can fix this. In the meantime you should stay out of the city."

"How are you going to fix this?" He insisted, "What are you going to do? This Sweeney asshole is a crime boss, you don't know what he's capable of."

She stood up and held both his shoulders, their matching blue eyes meeting each other, "I'm working on it. Trust me. Stay with mum for a bit. There's a lot of hype about this right now, but it will die down. For now I need you to be safe, please." Riley was asking him to endure living with their mother for a few weeks, whilst being afraid for her life, for his life, it was a lot to ask him to calm down, ignore it, and stay out of it. _T_ _his must be how Foggy feels about Matt 24/7._

She watched as he calculated and weighed what she asking of him, his eyes softened, "Fine," said Tommy. She hugged him close and tight, wishing she never had to let go.

* * *

 **You know I couldn't keep 'em away from each other for too long! xD This is a beginning of an arc so expect more very soon! :)**


	24. Chapter 24

**_WOOHOOO! 200+ Followers! WHATT I never thought I would see that in any of my stories. Thank you for sticking it out with me guys. Broke this one up into a more manageable chunk to read. Enjoy xx_**

* * *

 _Riley_

The max security prison was a plain, miserable place to behold. She was ushered into the visitor room with the phones and glass windows. Riley sat and waited for the prisoner.

Parker was prodded into the adjacent room, he gave a sour look to his guard. He saw her and without a moments hesitation tried to leave. The guards strong armed him and forced him into the seat. She didn't regret a thing she did to get him there, only the fact that Reeding's wife had to die for it.

If Murdock wasn't going to help her find Sweeney she had to resort to other means... such as reaching out to a man who hated her just as much as Matt did.

Riley picked up the phone; "Hello Parker."

His eyes glimmered with fury, "are you here to lie to me?" He lashed out, "use me again?"

"I was doing my job."

"Fuck your job," he hissed, banging the glass with his fist. The guard stepped to him to put him in his place, but she held her hand up to stop him from intervening. "You venomous bitch. I don't belong here."

"And yet, you're the one in the handcuffs," she responded coolly.

"You should be in here too. You're just as guilty as I am."

 _In his head I am still Jen Murphy._ "I went undercover and caught you and turned you in. That's the truth of it, Parker. Simple as that."

"I saw you, Jen."

"It's Detective Knight," she corrected. _He is still delusional._

"'Detective Knight,'" Parker mocked. "It doesn't matter whatever fucking name you use. I saw you for what you really are," he said darkly, and that caught her attention a bit more. "No badge can hide that anymore. I see right through you," he squinted at her.

"I was never really on your side Parker. It was an act."

"Liar," he growled. "You liked it, you enjoyed being on our side," he stabbed the glass, their gazes locked. "There was vitality in your all actions, you were alive when you were one of us. Whatever monster was inside of you, you didn't hesitate to bring it out when the time called for it, you embraced it."

Riley blinked, trying to be patient, "Are you done? I didn't drive all the way out here to listen to your delusion. I need to ask you a few questions."

He shook his head vehemently. "I'm not going to be tricked into helping you again."

"You have all the time in the world in there, Parker. The way I see it you don't have much to lose anymore."

"And who's fault is that?"

It was time she tried an alternate approach. "Alexa hasn't been allowed to visit you, has she?" Riley queried, using his little sister to goad him. That malice he showed started to falter, "How is she?"

"I don't know," he ground his teeth.

"I can talk to your aunt. Get them to see things from your point of view. You made a mistake, everyone does. I didn't enjoy lying to you all those months. I...know how you felt about me."

His jaw twitched, he was red in the face and embarrassed that he had fallen for her. "Let me make it up to you," she kept going. "And if you get good behaviour in there, your sentence could be reduced."

He smashed his lips together, trying to calm himself, but she had made him listen. "Who are you looking for now?" He said, begrudgingly.

"The man who started it all."

* * *

 _Matt_

His brain was struggling to focus with the logistics and practicality of this mission. _Can I take down several crime bosses and possibly dozens of their combined strength of henchmen on my own?_ The fight was going to get bloody. A violent battle that Stick would have relished being in the midst of. A trait which rubbed off on him because Matt was up for the challenge.

He was on edge the entire day, snapping at Foggy and Karen uncharacteristically. No amount of work and meditation could distract him from the cold hard truth;

He was going to be in the same room as the man who killed his father.

It was Sweeney. In the flesh. Retribution that was twenty years late. His heart throbbed painfully at the memory of his father. As if it were yesterday, he recalled the conversation his father and Roscoe had before his dad won the match.

 _I was so proud of him, so happy for him, he stood up for himself. But t_ _hey took him away from me, all the same._

Normally he was calm before his patrol, but as he pulled on his gloves he could feel an electric current buzzing across his body, a devouring fury he had to quash like a bug, and fast. He monitored his breathing to slow it down. He had to remove himself from the part Sweeney had in his father's death if he was going to succeed.

…

They were gathered around a round table, the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling above emitted low light, casting long shadows, many high nooks were dark for Matt to hide in. Each crime lord brought his own reinforcements, as protection and a display of strength.

Sweeney's voice rang clear as a bell as if it were inside Matt's head like it did decades ago. He opened and closed his fist to control himself and focused on scanning the scene rather than their conversation. But it was goddamn hard not to be curious.

"We need protection against this Punisher," said Sweeney in his Irish brogue, not at all butchered by many years in America. "Infighting will get us nowhere. We can't stop him, unless we build an understanding between our factions."

A proud, young, Italian man, the same age as Matt, with gelled hair and expensive suit and dress shoes leaned forward abruptly. He was haughty, puffing out his chest, and Matt could tell whatever insolence he was about to speak would not go down well with his seniors. "My understanding is that I'd rather take a shot to my eye than work with this incapable cunt," he thrust his index in the direction of a member of the Colombian cartel.

"You watch your mouth boy or I'll have your tongue and gauge both your eyes out," the Colombian pinned a knife to the table as a threat, the surrounding henchmen of both mafia were starting to get restless as Matt listened to their shifting feet and hands on guns. "You aren't capable of the respect your father commanded. Do you go home and suck on your mother's teat after the grown men talk you down?"

"I agree with Javier, it started with him," a man with a Russian accent pointed at the Italian. "You started to steal our turf, but you couldn't deal with the demand of the trade, you got your comeuppance, when the Punisher came after your men. And again, and again."

With so many attacks against him, the young man lost it and stood up, the chair behind him falling over; "I have had it—!"

"Sit down Federico!" Called a far more patient Roscoe Sweeney, he stood as well and he commanded their attention and respect with his size and powerful presence. "All of you quiet down, this is exactly what broke the Fisk Empire, bickering amongst ourselves."

"Why am I here Sweeney?" Started one of the second in command of the Dogs of Hell. "We aren't based in this city like you," he regarded the others at the table with scorn. "I don't work with these men unless it's absolute for the purpose of business related affairs only. But I see now, that you've asked me to this meeting and lumped me with human traffickers."

"Oh piss off, with that righteous bullshit," Javier flicked his knife at in the direction of the Dogs of Hell. "He's come after all of us no matter what we do. Big and small, it doesn't matter to him."

"The Dogs of Hell need the men more than any of us do," pointed out the Russian with a sly grin.

"This has proven to be very entertaining," the quietest person there, a Chinese man started to voice his opinion. "He's come after each of you, but not me. And I do not intend to be the next victim by associating myself with bad company. I'm leaving." _Good choice,_ Matt thought wryly.

"He hasn't come after you now, but you could easily be next even without this alliance," Sweeney told him.

"I see, you're asking us to ally and rally behind you, mic," Federico scowled at him with one raised brow, Sweeney did not like the degrading term he threw at him. "Make you the next Fisk."

"I agree with the kid for once," said Javier. "None of us have ever been able to put aside our differences in the past; you think we'd start now? And on your suggestion?"

"We have endured much greater threats than a lone shooter hiding in the shadows," said the Chinese man. _Except you didn't stand a chance against me._ Matt was frustrated that he did not completely chase them out, clearly whatever stragglers were left were trying to rebuild after Madame Gao exited the picture when Fisk did.

"This is war," argued Sweeney. "All of us saw dozens if not more, of our men carted off by the police in body bags. My younger brother was killed recently too."

"My condolences Roscoe," said the Dogs of Hell member with a acknowledging nod to pay his respects, Sweeney nodded back.

"If we continue to let this happen, our ranks will be decimated and we'd be left with nothing—"

 _Focus Matt, Focus._

That was enough eavesdropping for now. He surveyed the warehouse from his spot. There were henchmen patrolling the gallery balcony and walkways on the first floor, whilst the meeting continued on the ground floor. He would have to take them out slowly, one by one, and drag them into the shadows quiet as a mouse or else the entire place would be alerted that something was amiss.

* * *

 _Riley_

From what Parker told her, they would be inside that warehouse. Riley stationed herself on a rooftop across from it. _Matt's skills would be useful right about now._ There were no radio frequencies to pick up from the warehouse itself. She used the night vision goggles she 'borrowed' from the precinct to see if Matt was somewhere near the warehouse's sunroofs. Instead she found something else, _someone else..._

She saw him bright as day; the Punisher, exactly as Woodrugh's little daughter described it to the sketch artist. When did that happened? She couldn't remember, it felt like a year ago. Just so, she remembered the sketch as if it'd been made yesterday. Riley's arms lit up with a burst of energy, her heart started to race.

This was him.

He was on the taller building that loomed over the warehouse which she was unable gain access too earlier. _To think we might have found ourselves in the exact same place, surveying the exact same enemy_. The cases of his attacks returned to her. He had a gun levelled at the glass roof, heavy-duty military grade equipment, bullets that would plow through two men at once if he wanted to use them. _One man did all that._ If you tallied the number of kills he amassed, he made killing look like sport.

Matt was in that warehouse, God knows where, doing God knows what. Maybe he was successful taking down all the crime lords, maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was going to get used as target practice for the Punisher. She pointed the goggles at a possible entry point for her along the side of the warehouse. He wasn't going to be wearing his comm device and as per they deal he did not called her yet, therefore he must be waiting for the right moment to attack. But there could be no attack if the Punisher opened fire on everyone in there.

She took out her phone; she had to warn him somehow.

* * *

 _Matt_

He listened for the soft buzzing of the power grid box; it was below him off to his left. With the balance of a gymnast he walked along the narrow beam propping himself above an armed guard, he shifted to the left and steadied himself before descending onto him. Matt landed on his shoulders, stifling his scream with his hand and then deftly turned them both downwards to the ground. He applied pressure on his neck to put him to sleep.

Once that was done, he crouched determining if anyone heard the struggles. It was successful with no gunshots fired or attentions captured.

It was time to cut the power.

As he opened the fuse box his burner phone started to ring. He took it out of the utility pocket on his leg, irked that it was interrupting him and his cool, resolute focus. It was the detective, which made the interruption more annoying. He declined the call.

He pushed down two levers. The warehouse plunged into darkness.

This was his element. This was where he belonged where no other man could. The powerful men below started to squabble like school kids; "what's going on?" "If this one of your fucking tricks, you'll pay for this!"

Barely a minute passed and Matt sprinted and took out a pair of guards on a walkway, throwing both of them off it. The first unlucky guard landed on the ground, the next one on the round table the mafia bosses sat around, his bones crushing on impact, breaking the table in two halves. The bosses jumped out of their seat and started pointing their own guns at the other, no one was shooting yet but they were on the verge of it.

 _Good. This is the chaos I need, the chaos I can control._ Now he needed to take them out one by one in the dark—

The first shot was not fired from any of them…but from somewhere far above.

And all hell broke loose.

Matt dived down for cover; a henchman got shot above him as he skidded on the metal walkway. Bullets rained every which way imaginable. He dodged them leaping and ducking, men were screaming, men were dying, the metallic smell of blood infused the air so fast it made him dizzy. Some came from the guns within the warehouse, but there was a stronger gun elsewhere, not far off. He could hear it's power as it ripped through flesh and viscera and bone like the men were made of paper. They dropped dead around him like flies.

 _It must be him. The Punisher, he's here._

Disoriented he swerved his head this way and that trying to determine where this enemy was hiding. Glass was raining down on him in torrents. The mafia below were making a run for the exit before they lost their lives. His entire plan was going to ruin. The ringing of the hundreds of shots were alive in his skull and drowning him, clang after clang, bang after bang. A monstrous cacophony.

 _It's too much. Too much_. He ground his teeth until his jaw hurt. His fists clench so tight he could feel his nails digging into his palms through his tactical gloves. He halted, making himself a sitting duck, and the single-minded purpose of this mission was lost on him.

Matt needed to flee too, but in the moment he realised his bigger problem was not Sweeney but to find this elusive opponent of his whom was leaving behind devastating, blood soaked, war zones everywhere he went, if he could—

Before he knew it, he was tackled to the floor six feet away as bullets made sparks on the ground he stood on a second ago.

"Watch out," was the last cry of the person pushing him.

They collapsed together, lying flat on their fronts behind a partition wall that provided temporary cover. He analyzed the rough breath and length of the person next to him, _Riley._ "How did you find me?" He panted, befuddled she was here. He told her she would only need to be here at this mysterious meeting if he wanted her to be. Somehow she'd used her detective skills and wriggled her way into the scene without him.

She got to her knees and stooped, he followed suit.

"I'm pretty good at my job," she replied disparagingly. The power was still cut, she wore night vision goggles to see in the dark.

"Do you know where he is?" He asked her getting back to the progress of the fight. _If you can call it that, more like a one-sided fire show with a ghost, and the living are losing._

"It's coming from over there," she shouted and pointed to a specific spot beyond the rafters and the expansive sunroof. "On the overhead building, four stories up, it's taller than this place."

Matt leapt to his feet, waiting a few seconds for the right moment to emerge from their spot of cover. _He has nowhere to go now._ When the time came, he climbed out of a window and bounded towards him. It was time Matt brought this guy down once and for all.

* * *

 _Riley_

She curled into a ball as a smattering of bullets shattered the glass above her.

She lifted her head slowly and removed her goggles. The moonlight lit the entire warehouse in a silver glow. There was a dead henchman five feet from her. Through the railing she saw the stragglers emptying out, a pile of bodies surrounding the table where they—only minutes ago—sat at was smashed into two pieces. Glancing upwards to the sky she saw the shadow of Daredevil disappearing through the roof. She let out the shuddering breath she was holding and shivered as the wind blew from the wrecked sunroofs. The place fallen as eerily silent as a cemetery. _Only dead men are left behind here._

Her head was ringing as if someone had pounded at it with a hammer; the sounds around her were dulled. It must be ten times worse for someone with sensitive hearing like Matt's. She was on an overhanging gallery, a rusted door opened to the connecting balcony that bounded the outside of the warehouse.

Riley kept her position low, crawling beside another dead henchman and pushed the door open. Her eyes darted from the entrance and at the men running away. _Whatever chance of an alliance is forgotten for the time being._ There were large SUVs parked in the dirt lot outside not a mile away. She studied Roscoe's face at the precinct, so much so she began to notice the resemblance between him and Rob Sweeney. Sweeney was fleeing towards those cars. Her chest felt constricted as she watched him move further away.

She shakily exhaled, gripping the railing's iron bars until her knuckles were paper white. If he disappeared now there was no telling when, if at all, she would ever be able to defeat him. This enigma of a man who thought he could dictate the outcome of her life.

There was a discarded AK-47 at the edge of her foot, unclaimed, glinting like an onyx below the moonlight. She stared between the weapon and then at Sweeney's figure getting smaller and smaller. A dangerous opportunity appeared before her.

One clear shot to the head. It was so simple, clean-cut. She always strived to do what was necessary; maybe this was what was necessary. She was so goddamn sick and tired of being beaten down and forced into a corner, cowering in the shadows, trying to protect everyone but in the end protecting no one.

There was something building inside of her like a crackling fire. It had been there for some time now, months perhaps. Her rage was the oxygen feeding it.

Scenes from the kidnapping barraged her mind. The blinding stench of the chloroform, the knife grating on her collarbone, the knife forced into her gut. _Rob would have hacked away at me like I was a piece meat, he promised to mutilate Matt in front of me._

 _Me. It has to be me._ Sweeney threatened her vulnerable brother whilst he was in a hospital bed forcing her to ignore hundreds of innocents for his safety. _A brother for a brother I suppose._ He killed Matt's father, and he wanted to kill her too. _He shouldn't be alive, he shouldn't be here. He should never have come back. He deserves it. He fucking deserves it. He has to die._

There was nothing but pure, red-hot rage slamming into her heart. The blood in her veins was tumultuous, crashing through her in waves. She had never known such anger in her life up until that moment.

The world was unmoving; the air was thick and grey and still. _They would think it was the Punisher or one of the other crime bosses' guards taking the hit to get a reward later._ She glanced to her left, to her right. No resistance. No one to chase her down and stop her, shoot her, stab her, hit her, she doubted she would have even noticed them if they tried. Riley, in a trancelike silence picked up the assault rifle, clenching her fingers around its body. It was heavier than the pistol she carried on her belt, but it weighed like nothing then.

She loaded a new magazine into it, dropped down to one knee, cocked it and lined it up with her vision. The black X mark on the back of Sweeney's head.

* * *

 _Matt_

They clashed together without any words traded. Matt surprise attacked him with a swing to the head. The Punisher could hold his own against his moves. While Matt was graceful and quick, the Punisher was a tough son of a bitch and would not be taken down easily no matter how relentlessly Matt fought. Matt flipped through the air and delivered a kick to his opponent's chest, but he didn't reel or misstep only charged forward to retaliate.

The Punisher got a few licks in, and one of them found Matt falling by the edge nearly pitching headfirst down the six-story drop. But because of this, he caught a queer sound despite the ceaseless ringing in his ears.

It should have been quiet back at the warehouse, but then he heard it; the echo of an assault rifle being loaded, and the first bullet sliding into place in the barrel.

 _This foe will have to wait._

He swerved, sending an air kick to get his opponent to back off before he could grab him by the collar. Matt made a mental note of his heartbeat, breathing and height and weight. Instead of chasing the Punisher, he ran and jumped down; heading to the demolished sunroof.

...

 _Riley_

With one squinted eye she followed Sweeney's head with the viewfinder. He was still for a millisecond just as he was reaching the escape car…

This was it. There was no wind whistling passed her, no shouts, no sirens. She let out one slow breath that lasted a year; it was all she heard…all her finger needed to do was plunge on the trigger. But it was proving to be much harder than she thought. She had a scant number of seconds to decide. _It's easy, one push, I can take the burden of it, I can—_

A body plowed into her at full force.

Her breath was knocked out of her, she rolled with them along length of the balcony. It caused her to accidentally fire a shot; it still vibrated off the deepest caverns of the warehouse and back.

They stopped. It was Matt on top of her.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He growled down at her, baring the whites of his teeth.

Riley swung her legs up, her thighs clamping around his neck and she threw him off her. She winced as pain bloomed from the healing stab wound, but it passed faster than it would have a few weeks ago.

She rolled onto her belly to see whether she was successful with the missed shot.

She wasn't.

Their black SUV escaped onto the road, into the dark midnight blue horizon.

"No," she breathed, watching her quarry flee, forever to be out of her reach.

Riley had no time to organize her thoughts as Matt gathered the fabric of her jacket and hauled her to her feet while she was in her daze of regret... and odd relief.

He violently bunched her collar and pulled her to him. "That's not how we get rid of our enemies," he growled through clenched teeth, his face inches from hers. He was angrier than she had ever seen him. He looked like he would bite her, she wanted to flinch but there was nowhere to turn her head. "We don't kill them!"

She was floundering, unable to form any coherent speech; "I-I—"

"Why would you do that? What were you thinking?" He shook her so hard each shake made her teeth clatter.

"I don't know!" She yelled, the only answer she could conceive then. The abrupt clangor of police sirens made her chest jolt. She instantly felt a hundred times more guilty as if she actually had shot Sweeney. They both turned to the road; she saw the dim red and blue police lights barreling towards the warehouse.

He let go of her; he'd nearly lifted her off her feet. She flattened her heels on her ground. He retreated into the darkness, she could tell he was glaring at her; "this isn't over." Knowing him, she knew that was a promise he would fulfill.

…

She avoided any questions or encounters with colleagues like the plague. Riley got out of there and zipped home as fast as she possibly could. Driving home, she recalled Parker's words at the prison, about embracing monsters and how she'd easily let hers out when she was undercover. It sent a chill down her spine to think that he could be right.

She tried to focus on the road to get back home. But she still felt detached from the world, being pulled into her own head, a swirling pit of horror and darkness. She almost ran several red lights. Her lungs felt like they might float off into the air with each wispy, shaky breath she took. She tried to keep herself calm when truthfully she on the verge of tears.

She made it nonetheless, whatever was left of her. It was strange being home with Tommy not there. This was better; she could flip out in full display here. _I sent him away to be safe from them…_

… _or was I trying to keep him safe from me?_ A little voice maliciously whispered inside her head.

Riley saw a ghost in her bathroom mirror, a shell. There was specks of blood spray she did not notice and dirt on her clothes and face. Shedding her clothes on the bathroom floor she showered immediately, letting the steam hug her. But even its warmth could not settle the storm inside her heart and how her skin crawled with imaginary ants in the memory of the events of the past few hours.

Her hands were shaking like leaves as she turned the faucet off when she was finished. She was a malfunctioning robot. She couldn't even ready herself properly and threw on an oversized t-shirt over her nakedness, forgetting to pat herself dry.

Her throat felt like sandpaper, thus she went to fetch a glass of water. As she sipped she turned to the window naturally expecting it to be empty. Instead there was Matt kneeling on the fire escape, it gave her such a fright she choked and spat the water out. She totally forgot his promise to continue the conversation. She didn't think he would come by on the same night; she had not even processed anything yet herself.

 _Not tonight, I can't face it tonight._

Riley carefully set the glass down and went to open the window. The beat of her heart deafening her. He didn't say anything at first, he was just a black amorphous figure. It was his silence and the anticipation of the ensuing trial of her innocence that fried her already frazzled nerves.

"We need to talk."


	25. Chapter 25

**I've kept you waiting for a very long time, so get ready for a longgggg convo between our heroes!**

* * *

 _Riley_

Matt stood on the fire escape, threatening like an amorphous black figure. His back was rising and falling in that way he did when he was trying to keep his feelings in check.

She swallowed; "Come in." Opening the window wider, he stepped inside but remained close to the window, he didn't appear as topped up with rage as he was earlier, but his mouth was lined and grim. Riley leaned on the back of her couch. Feeling exposed with nothing but a t-shirt on, she self-conciously curled a strand of hair behind her ear and hugged herself. She wanted to do this alone, face her decision or almost-decision on her own without his judgment.

But he was going to take her suffering and make it worse by ten-fold.

"What happened out there?" He had better control of his fury, but she could tell from experience that it would only take a few strikes for it to burst from him like a geyser.

"You know what happened," Riley said finding her voice, after fearing she had lost it at the warehouse amidst the gunfire and dark choices; "I wanted to kill him." She owned up to it unashamed.

He could tell she wasn't and his lips twisted; "It's a damn good thing I stopped you."

"I never pressed the trigger," she felt like she needed to remind him, her own anger rose like a hot air balloon. What did he expect to achieve from giving her a scolding?

"You might have if I didn't hear you pull the gun in the first place, if I hadn't been there," he barked back.

"And if I did?" She threw at him. "It was Roscoe Sweeney, he _killed_ your father, he threatened my brother— he's done terrible things-"

"That is not a justifiable reason!" He started to yell, and then closed a fist at his mouth to stop himself, he regained control again, finding a moment to steady his breath. "You don't get to be judge, jury and executioner, didn't they teach you anything at the academy?" He admonished with and a slight shake of his head. Matt pulled his mask off, his messy brown hair stuck out at odd ends and his countenance was etched in deep concern and even a dash of hurt. "This isn't you. What's going on? And don't you dare lie to me."

Her eyes drifted to the floor. Riley didn't know why she felt guilty for hiding it from him; somehow he still brought that emotion up in her when it was uninvited.

"He wants to kill me."

"What?" Matt most definitely did not expect to hear that.

She licked her lips then glanced back at him, able to lodge each sentences out of her thick throat; "I killed Rob Sweeney, he was Roscoe Sweeney's brother. Sweeney's put a bounty on my head. 200,000. He wants me dead."

His jaw hit the ground. She wished he kept his mask on, another barrier to strengthen her resolve but without it all of his emotions were laid out and that only coaxed her own to surface too.

"How could you keep this from me?" He asked, incredulous.

Riley glared; "You're really asking me that?" She snapped, he winced at her razor sharp reply. She glanced away again, diffident with her realisation she was being too harsh. The whole week had been dismal and every little thing was starting to infuriate her as she continued to be useless against the bigger threat. Perhaps that was why she was picked the rifle up in the first place- her desperation and impatience-a quick fix to a huge problem.

He started to pace in front of her. "Has anyone tried anything?"

"No one's attempted anything yet, but they could. Tommy's gone at least, I told him to get the hell out of here."

"You didn't go with him?"

"No," she lifted her head to him and held a cautionary finger up, "and if you're going to tell me that I'm making a huge mistake, endangering my life by staying; I've already heard this lecture from Alfie and my brother I don't—"

"I'm not going too," he interrupted, direct and sure of himself, shutting her up. "I know you, you wouldn't run. You can never leave as long as threat is here. It's what I would do." The corner of his mouth turned up imperceptibly, a flash of camaraderie and the old banter they had months ago when things were not as complicated.

Riley was prepared to launch into a difficult argument with Matt about how she was going to stay put and hell would freeze over before she left New York. He couldn't tell her what to do; she couldn't trust him etc, the usual rodeo.

…But he didn't grant her that, and she was completely inept at handling this new sympathetic shift in his tone. "You're on his list too. But he wants to kill me more than you for a change, I've never been first on anyone's list," she snorted derisively, her default of morbid humor coming to play;

"Killing him wouldn't have solved anything," he replied, with a level tone returning to the conflicting, and serious matter at hand.

"How do you know that?" She challenged. Sweeney was their leader, their brain. _Cut off the head of the snake._ It was how she rationalized it at the time.

"Because you would've regretted it," he tersely reprimanded, unhappy with her remark, but not as angrily as a minute ago.

 _Again with his righteous Catholic bullshit._ "This isn't about me," she retorted, slapping her own chest, "it was about getting rid of him. It's about getting my life back."

"I want him to pay as much as you do! He took my father away from me, I know he did. But this isn't the way," he said indignantly, rearing up to her. "You're not any better than him if you kill him."

"Go on, hate me all you want. It doesn't make a difference," she said with a mirthless grin, and raised her voice. "I know what I did, what I tried to do. It doesn't matter," she gestured at him roughly as she went off on a rant; "we're standing here arguing about morality but its pointless! No one out there is playing by the rules, Murdock. You aren't, Sweeney isn't, the Punisher definitely isn't. Anything we do, we're back to square one. Nothing we did tonight changed anything! My brother is gone, I told him he could come home that-that he could be safe, but I couldn't keep that promise. He begged me to let him stay but I couldn't let him. I told him I would find a way, but I haven't, I still have an axe hanging over my head-"

"Knight, I-"

She caught her breath, and talked on as if he wasn't going to reply; "I know it's selfish and reckless and might ruin me forever, but if this was the only way for me to keep my promises, if I could get rid of someone who wants me dead just as much as I want him to be, then so be it; I'd have no regrets. I'll take the scorn and blame from you, from anyone, I would do it, if it means I can finally stop him from threatening me and my family and this city. I've had _enough."_

By the time she was done shouting, her throat felt raw. Despite it, she was trembling as the reality of what she crashed down on her, as the hopelessness of her predicament started to settle into her bones. Her cheeks heated up at her emotional outburst. She turned from him to hide herself, but it was futile.

Riley heard him take a deep breathe in, she peered at him, he gnashed his teeth together, closed his eyes, and then calmly pressed his lips together; "I get it, Knight. I do. He's named you, he knows who you are. It's personal now."

She was too exhausted to speak any further. "It's always been personal Matt," Riley said quietly and let out a tired sigh, she plopped down on her couch. He opened his mouth to say something but she stopped him. "I can't do this right now, you should just leave," she clutched her head, it was pounding. There was years of clutter in there that reappeared out of thin air and she didn't know how to get rid of it.

He threaded his fingers through his hair in frustration. But he stubbornly refused to budge; "No," he announced bluntly, his mind decided, "I'm not leaving until we deal with this."

"We?" She guffawed, and took her head out of her hands to grimace at him. "It's my fault okay? This is my burden to deal with. I killed Rob. It was me. I've accepted the responsibility."

"I killed him too," said Matt firmly, coming over to sit down on couch next to her. "I pushed that hammer to you. We're both at fault. You don't need to deal with it on your own, you could've-" he paused, swallowed, "-spoken to me, about it, I was there too, remember?" He asked, trying to be light, but failing. "I know we didn't end on the right foot, but- if it was really bothering you, I wouldn't have-I guess what I'm trying to say is-"

"It's not the same," she said softly, interrupting him as he rambled. Riley watched his countenance for the entire time he spoke, focused on his eyes that were dark but reflected the gleam from the streetlight. "You wouldn't understand, unless it was you." His empathy was unforeseen. She couldn't help it if her heart clenched a little, touched at the effort he was making. But he wasn't the one who swung the hammer, he didn't have to feel another's human's lifeblood pour out of him. "And besides, I definitely did not want to talk to you about anything after I figured out your secret."

Matt's shoulders heaved; "Yeah. You're right. I wouldn't understand, I still don't," he said, with a thoughtful, somber look on his face.

"Normally I like hearing people say that I'm right, but not this time," said Riley, with a dejected smile.

"It feels like a year ago when I first met you," he said, nostalgically. "I thought we could make this city better together, I truly did. I never intended for this to end with you having a target on your back," said Matt. "It's not fair."

"Tommy said the same thing to me. I was the one who was terrorised and I still am. It's like a nightmare that doesn't stop even when you're awake." She bit her lip as something occurred to her. _How would my brother react if he knew what I nearly did tonight?_ But she did know. _He would react like Matt did._ "It...It doesn't matter," she shook her head and shrugged. "Someone is always trying to kill a cop one way or another. It's part of the job. I should've seen this coming. It's not something I've ever had to deal with, but the team and I are working together." She was relentlessly trying to be offhand and official to deflect from the vomiting out any true feelings like she did just now. "Fitz and everyone else are committed to it, and we want to get Sweeney, for good."

Matt was close enough for her to see the strand of hair that hung lazily over his forehead and the shadow of his shave. She'd never seen how expressive his eyes could be, they were as hard as steel then;

"We need a plan."

 _Of course that's what his head jumps too. Never a moment of respite for Daredevil._ Riley hugged herself once more, feeling the chill from the cool night air whistle into her living room. She snorted; "I had a feeling you would say that. What are you going to do that I haven't already done? Even you don't have a clue what we're supposed to do next, unless by some miracle you do?"

He sighed, his brows creased. She stared at him for a long moment, waiting, naively hoping he had the magical solution they both needed. He didn't have an answer.

"You don't," she said in conclusion. "I thought so."

He throat moved prominently as he swallowed, he sounded defeated; "I'm sorry."

"Not exactly what I wanted to hear."

Riley was just as disappointed as he was. Except she didn't know _what_ exactly he had to be sorry for, she'd gotten the whole apology for lying about being Daredevil weeks ago. It was the reason she despised him. But a sorry from him wasn't even needed anymore.

It occurred to her, for the first time in a long time, Matt wasn't her enemy here, not in this instant. He wasn't the one offering a monetary reward to see her head leave her body. He wasn't hunting her down, he wouldn't harm her brother. They were not partners, had not been for ages. He didn't owe her anything anymore. They went their separate paths as best they could. She did not ask to be saved. Matt let the Punisher go in order to stop her from shooting Sweeney. They lost two enemies, and for what purpose?

 _To save my soul? Somehow to him, it's still worth saving? For some obscure reason-it matters?_

 _God, he is a puzzle to figure out._

"Why are you apologizing?" She questioned, her voice was just above a whisper, she watched him intently, as she struggled to understand his jumbled motives. "Why are you still here?"

"I know you blame yourself, but I still feel responsible." He worked his lips together as he tried to find an explanation; "I suppose... I'm here because I needed to understand what happened, why you tried to kill him. And overall, I didn't want you to go down that path," he mimicked the softness in her tone.

"You're forgetting I already have."

"It was self-defense," he argued, getting lit again when she started to be hard on herself. "You have to understand that. What else could you have done?"

She snickered at the irony of it; "Yeah 'self-defense', except men like Sweeney call it murder."

"I know you're scared."

"Did you get that by examining my heartbeat and breath?" She said a little too curtly. It was a reflex reaction. Since she was a teenager she always despised when people said she was afraid. Indeed, she was a scared little girl once, but she learnt the hard way she needed to be strong, even if she had to fake it until she believed it herself. She dared anyone to tell her she wasn't capable of taking care of herself, of facing her fears, and she would prove them wrong.

She thought Matt might get up and leave; tell her she was a hopeless cause, and there could never be a conversation with her that did not end in an shouting match. He was persistent however and angled himself to her, "No, I can tell from the way your hands are shaking," he pointed at them.

Looking down at them, he was right.

"You're _not_ a cold-blooded killer," he said, leaning forward on his knees.

Finally, Riley put that notion out in the universe. The self-doubt, the fear, and the anger conforming together in one truth she had been too scared to say out loud; "Maybe I am."

" _No_. You're not," he insisted vehemently, believing in what he said with every ounce of his being. "What you did that night, doesn't define who you are."

Riley was angry enough to punch through a wall, miserable enough to wallow in tears. The weeks of anxiety she built avoiding going to Father Lathom flowed out; "do you what its like to be a woman in this field?" She asked him, seemingly off topic. He stayed quiet and listened. There was no turning back to whatever armor she wore, it was total honesty from then on, with him and with herself. "It's hard; you're smart enough to fill in the details." Tokenism, sexism, endless bias was constantly pressing on her in every direction on a daily basis. She could fill pages and pages on the subject. "You're aware that anyone, _anyone_ has the capability of killing you with their bare hands. Well, if I let them," she added with a dark smirk.

"And then assholes like Roscoe Sweeney think I deserve to die because I was protecting myself?" She felt the same heat in her chest and force in her hands that led her to pick up the assault rifle in the first place; "I was full of rage, and I wanted to hurt him for it. I wanted him to suffer; because he doesn't deserve to be alive, I-I felt that… in my heart," she rubbed her hand over where it was, feeling it beat rapidly against her palm. "It was too easy to cross that line."

"Then be happy you didn't cross it," Matt said. "You think I've never felt the way you have? I've had to hold back on a punch because it could've broken someone's spine. Once, there was father who was abusing his daughter, I heard it happen," he told her, a quaver to his voice. "I beat him up, warned him never to touch her again. I nearly killed him that night. I wanted too. I know, how hard it is to resist the urge," he nodded earnestly. "You're not the only one."

She let out a shaky breath, she glanced at her hands and they weren't trembling anymore.

"But you're allowed to be scared Riley. I'm afraid too," he admitted, with a little pained, broken smile that stirred something in her chest. "I'm afraid that Sweeney will win, that they'll win. I'm afraid the next time I leave my home at night in this suit will be my last. I'm afraid of losing people. Fear is always going to be there, but it matters how you deal with it, how you overcome it. It matters that you're true to yourself even after all of our enemies are gone."

Matt took her elbow, light and sure, the sudden pressure and warmth of it alarming her. His green eyes, intense. "You're so much more than what you give yourself credit for." This statement was not a scold, or a yell about her almost-mistake. It was iron-clad certainty. It told her that whatever judgement he had of her, before this, remained, unshaken, unchanged, he still held her in a higher regard than what she reduced herself to be.

He was so close she could feel his breath ghosting over the hallow of her neck. She did not miss that he said 'our enemies.' He was determined to underscore that she wasn't alone in this. But she didn't deserve it. She wiped her eyes, feeling them get wet. Her chest heaved as if a brick had been lifted of it. Not to her brother, nor to Alfie would she ever admit to be being _afraid_. But Matt was right, she was allowed to be. She didn't need to say it out loud, nor did he prod any further because he already understood.

And she was grateful for that.

"I'm just sick of it," she said, her throat thick. "The fighting. It's all I've been doing the past few months. I wake up and sleep as if I'm in a war zone every single day. I'm tired of it. Aren't you?"

"Yeah." He let out a humorless laugh as he thought about it, a hint of a smile left behind that became sad. "But I can't stop. I don't even know who I'd be if I wasn't doing this." It seemed like defeat, but it was just him accepting everything and all that he was, embracing it, knowing full and well that it fucked up his life multiple times, but he continued with the torture despite it.

Riley stared at him. _I gave him so much crap for trying to do the right thing._ If he wasn't blind then maybe he could have been a cop like her, he wouldn't have to hide in a costume in the dead of the night. _But God dealt him this card, and there's no such thing as blind detectives. He wants to help people. He tries to make it work to his favor, no matter how crazy it is._

"I don't think Foggy would like it if he heard you say that," she said, attempting levity, moving her elbow out of his hold, though she still felt the remnants of its touch on her skin.

He chuckled lightly; they fell into a companionable silence for a moment. "Riley… I'm sorry I wasn't a better friend. I let you down," said Matt, with genuine regret.

"I'm sorry too," it was easy to say, she thought to share something she should have shared with him weeks ago, but did not because of the instability between them. "There was a firefighter the night of the fire. I thought he would rat us out, but he didn't. He watched out for the perimeter as I drove you back to your apartment. You saved his niece. He told me you were worth saving too, that's why I did it."

He blinked his surprise, "I'm lucky he was there, I'm lucky you were there," said Matt. "You're a good cop Riley, and a good person. Don't sacrifice who you are to fight an enemy. Never."

"I'm glad you stopped me." But not only for that, he made her feel glad to be Riley Knight. She was no assassin, she was not the Punisher; she was a police officer, a detective. It was humbling. She had no special ninja skills, or some fancy tech suit, she wasn't a science experiment with superhuman powers.

She took a vow, and if she killed someone in cold blood, then that vow became null and void. _Words don't mean much if you can't stick by them._

He gave an acknowledging nod and then stated; "I can protect you."

She closed her eyes, mildly annoyed, this was what she wanted to avoid; "I don't need you to protect me—"

"I'm not asking for permission," he commanded over her. "Sweeney's still alive." He didn't take her elbow, this time he took her hand that was on her knee in both of his. She swallowed, startled eyes darting down and up. For someone who throws people off buildings and can break an arm with a single brutal twist he was very gentle.

"We have to try to work together; we have to trust each other."

"Despite all the shit we've done and said to each other?" She said with a joking scoff. But he was done with jokes. She looked at their twined hands on her knee.

"Yes. Despite that," he replied. "But I think we've made amends, haven't we?" His hand tightened a bit.

"Yeah we have. But it's not going to happen overnight," she had to point out. They still had vast differences in their methods of carrying out justice.

"I know," he said, and squeezed twice as tight, that made her look at him head on, watching intently. "But I'm not going to let him ruin more lives. And I certainly am not going to let him kill you."

She knew he wouldn't, she knew she could trust him. "Okay," she agreed, never moving her gaze from him. "Thank you, Matt."

"You don't have to thank me Riley."

She looked down at their hands again, her pulse was racing just where his thumb rested over the veins of her wrist. She extricated it from him and kept it in her lap, neither of them speaking, but a palpable tension in the air. They'd said a lot to each other in a short span of time, she didn't know what to make of it yet. Riley stood, crossing her arms, "I should get some sleep, it's been a long day."

Matt followed suit, looking flustered. "Yeah, you should, I should go." His feet lingered for a moment, his mask in his grip ready to pull it back on.

Out of character for someone as private as her, Riley took that moment to give him a hug. It was out of impulse, and she was 100% certain it would be awkward as hell. It was meant to be brief; a grab of both his shoulders to pull him to her, something she would give Alfie on the rare occasion.

He was a bit taken aback at first, but tentatively, he returned it, pressing a hand between her shoulders blades, the one that slid onto her waist was warm as it wrapped around her. Riley circled her arms around him fully and he did the same, he rubbed her back in small circles soothingly, and she buried her face into the crook of his neck, taking in his scent. She was on her tip-toes, he inhaled deeply, his cheek rested on her hair. His chest moved with hers as it was pressed against his, no sliver of space between them, he was as hot as furnace.

 _If I don't let go now, then I won't want him to leave._ Riley got a hold of her wits; "Stay safe," she whispered into his ear and loosened her hold. _You're tired, you unloaded a ton of baggage to him, and you're grateful for his support. That's it._ They pulled away, the chill replacing him. There was a conflicted furrow to his brow as he put his mask back on quickly. He said goodbye and climbed out the window. Leaving her with a few doubts creeping in her head.

...

She rushed back to work after running errands as it neared the time to punch out. The events at the warehouse were a few days ago; the almost-kill, the talk with Matt, the too-close hug, was overshadowed by the business of the working day as they threw the weight of their task force into both finding the drugs in Hell's Kitchen and locating Roscoe Sweeney. They weren't a very large force, so Fitz was asking a lot of them, stretching them thin, and her and her colleagues were in a perpetual state of tiredness every morning, but it had to be done. When she wasn't distracted however, dark thoughts inched back into her mind whenever she was idle.

She took the encounter with Matt in her apartment as her being an emotional needy mess, something she never _ever_ wanted to embody again, thank you very much. _I told him stuff I've never told anyone, I said I was scared, I almost cried, I hugged him, I even thought about-_

"Stop it," she whispered to herself, and shook her head roughly to remove herself from being stuck in the memory.

On an hourly basis she was more than happy there was another task given to her by Fitz as soon as the current one was complete to keep herself occupied. When she walked into the room, Leo, Malek and Croftsky were getting up from their desks. "You missed the debriefing," said Malek, shrugging on her leather jacket.

Riley scanned the office to see where Fitz was, but he must have left for the day. "Took the long way to get here and ran two red lights. Can't be too careful." She was always retracing her steps and looking over her shoulder these days. Matt's assurances to protect her didn't do much to stop her concern.

Naturally, Croftsky found a way to flip the situation she was in to become all about him, his sneering face got in her path. "Thanks to whatever you did, this entire unit is under scrutiny from Roscoe Sweeney."

She gave him a dirty look, "why the heck are you whining, Croftsky? Am I the one with the bounty on my head or you?" He threw her a scowl and then huffed off to the locker room.

"It's been a week. You don't seem that phased," said Leo walking over to her.

It was easy to lie; after all she had been undercover for months before, she considered herself a good actor. "What is there to be phased about?" She remarked with an offhanded shrug, pretending to be a lot more casual and fearless about being on a hit list than she actually was.

"That's my girl," Malek gave her a friendly fist bump to the shoulder.

"We're going for drinks at McCilwaine's, wanna join?" Leo asked.

Her look went to the direction Croftsky left in. She wasn't in the mood to hang out with the less unsavory members of her unit. Seeing where her gaze went, Leo titled his in the same direction; "Don't worry about him, he has a date tonight."

 _Someone as unpleasant as him get's a goddamn date, and I don't?_ But then she thought; _who would_ want _to go on a date with me?_ She would only find a way to wreck it somehow or worse, get him killed.

"You're joking," she blurted, in utter disbelief. " _He's_ on a date? Dave Croftsky? The same guy who sits over there," she nudged her chin at his desk.

Malek laughed and circled her arm through Riley's. "Come with us. Day seven of being on a Kill list and you're still breathing, that's something to celebrate." _Hardly anything fantastic to celebrate,_ but Riley entertained them anyway.

Leo snorted; "maybe they have orange juice and bendy straws for your drink."

Malek smacked Leo's arm so Riley didn't have too.

..

The last time she set foot in this bar, her brother was still in the hospital after being hit by a car and he was being threatened by mafiosos. She was with Alfie, she was blissfully unaware Matt Murdock was Daredevil. Things were looking promising for her career.

It was funny to think how it all went down the drain shockingly fast.

Riley invited Gale, her nurse friend from Metro General, to join them.

The second Gale walked in, heads in the bar started to turn. Gale was the exact opposite of her; she could dress well (Riley wore t-shirts on a regularly basis), she looked great in every color (Riley preferred black or grey) she was charming, always smiling, with Disney princess laugh that wasn't fake, but infectious. _And_ she had the blessed capacity to care for people on entirely different level from her. Gale bandaged up the good and the bad ones when Riley would've chosen to throw the latter in a cell, broken bones and all.

"Now tell me, who convinced her to actually leave her apartment? Because I've been trying to do that for months," Gale said, squeezing her shoulder playfully.

"It was me," Malek raised her hand.

Riley rolled her eyes; "Oh ha. Ha."

"I've missed you," her friend hugged her. She could not remember the last time she hugged a friend as tightly as she hugged Gale then. But then her mind returned to Matt that night, and she corrected and smacked herself internally.

But it was good to see Gale. Her life revolved around protecting Tommy for the past few months, she forgot there were other people in her life that cared about her. "When was the last time you did anything normal for a change?" Gale asked with a soft but worried smile.

"I don't remember," she replied with a lighthearted sigh, brushing it off to be entirely work related, when it wasn't. It just wasn't her life anymore; nothing was as simple as it used to be. It wasn't like she didn't see her share of tragedy, violence, murder and human depravity before. Riley put away a lot of bad people. But with the events of the past few months coming into play, she wasn't holding herself up as best as she could.

 _Dark corners,_ was what Karen Page said to Foggy. _When you see too much of the bad you forget the good._ Who in her circle of friends could actually relate to everything she had been through? Everything she had done? Tried to do? _What would Gale think if she knew I wanted to kill someone? Purely out of vindictive reasons?_ It was an colossal effort for Riley to forgive herself for what she did, how would anyone else forgive her? She didn't think Matt entirely did, no matter what he said.

And yet...she wanted him too, she wanted to believe he did mean it.

She wanted nothing to do with him when she found out his secret, but he ends up being the only person who can understand her, the only person she doesn't have to put on a brave face or fake smile in front of. Someone as messed up, possibly borderline psychotic and unstable as Matt Murdock was the only person on the entire planet that knew every detail about her current life. The only person she was genuine with.

For someone who thought she always had a decent group of good friends she could rely on, confide in; it sucked.

Therefore as she sat with Gale in their go-to bar, drinking, chatting, laughing, Riley just wanted to cherish the moment of normalcy, even if it was just for one night. Riley _was_ tired, and she desperately missed how carefree she could be this time last year.

"First you said it was impossible to date, then it became too impossible for you to go out?" Gale went on, tisking; "No, no, we can't have that, we have to draw a line somewhere."

They talked some more and Riley could see over Gale's shoulder that Leo was eyeing her nurse friend. She rolled her eyes, Gale saw that and smiled, bemused, "wait, what is it?"

"I think you've caught someone's eye."

"Oh really? Who?" She strained her neck to see who it was, and Riley tried to stop her, knowing she would get second hand embarrassment if her fellow detective tried any moves on Gale tonight. Leo was a good detective, but he was such a moron sometimes without intentionally trying to be one.

But as her hand met her shoulder, the entrance to the bar burst forth. For a split second it didn't look like anything out of the ordinary, it was Friday, the night was young, and people were getting drunk in every bar in town doing stupid things, as usual.

Until the man drew a gun and pointed it in her direction.

"Get down!"

Shots fired. Riley barely reached out for Gale in time. They were on the floor, chairs falling around them. People were screaming, shouting, crying, more bullets were going off. Glass and alcohol sprayed over her. Her hand went to her weapon, until she met Gale's eyes as she lied on the floor.

There was a bullet in her neck.

Riley's forgot about the attacker, she forgot the rest of the bar, the city, forgot that the world existed.

Gale coughed, her blood was pouring out fast and bright red. Riley clamped her hands over around her neck with a vice grip to hasten the bleeding. There was no time to be afraid or to panic she had to ensure Gale survived long enough for real help to arrive.

"It's going to okay…" she told her, _she has to be okay, she can't die, this can't happen again, not again, not again._ There was a cry choking her but she kept her 's hands were hot and red and wet with blood. There was terror and pain glimmering in Gale's brown eyes as they blinked slowly at nothing in particular.

"An ambulance is on its way!"

Riley looked up briefly to see Malek hovering over them, disgruntled, concerned, gun hanging in her grasp. Leo joined her and they were both rapidly speaking to her, something about a get away car, something about what was going on in the rest of the bar. Whatever they said meshed into inconsequential white noise. She looked down at Gale again, the blood out of her jugular staining her blonde hair as she made soft sounds of agony.

 _They were here for me._

Her friend was dying in her arms.

And it was all her fault.

..

The tap water was ice cold as it flowed out of the tap and onto her hands. They were shaking violently but not from the temperature of the water. She cupped her hands beneath the water to stop the shaking and breathed deeply, squeezing her eyes shut to tap down the ire inside of her. The water turned warm and that helped but scarcely.

In the black of her eyelids, she saw a nightmare of blood and gore.

The door to the bathroom opened. Silently, Nora Malek walked over and handed her a towel to wipe the blood off. "It's not your fault," said her colleague with a look of pity. Without a word, Riley accepted the towel and wiped her hands dry, but the smell of Gale's blood lingered in the sink and in her mind.

The nurse was at Metro General, the doctors trying to stabilize her, Riley wanted to go with her in the ambulance, but Leo advised it was best they get back to the station to sort this out and find the sons of bitches who opened fire on them.

No one wanted to find them more than Riley did.

"They were there for me," she replied tonelessly. She only asked for one night where Daredevil, the Hit List, Sweeney the crime in the city did not matter, would not touch her and poison her life. But she was asking of too much from the universe, apparently.

It set Riley on an edge. It was survival mode now, for her, for Gale.

 _And if she dies?_

 _Then there needs to be retribution._

With newfound determination, setting her steadfastly on a path to find her would-be murderers. She shoved the bathroom door open and stalked to the conference room, where Fitz called an emergency meeting.

"I managed to get two shots into the van they were driving in," said Leo once they were gathered.

"Search every clinic for records of two white males with gun shot wounds, that's a start," Fitzgerald ordered.

"How is she?" Riley asked Malek on the side for Gale's condition.

"Still in surgery, from what we last heard."

"I got something," Leo announced and read off an address from his computer screen.

"Malek, Leo, head down to the clinic," the sergeant pointed at both of them, "Croftsky and I are going to speak to a Hit-man at Riker's, he's taken contracts for the Irish before."

Either task were appealing for her, she wanted to sink her teeth into this case for real, but as she grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair, Fitz stood in front of her, she immediately knew what was coming;

"You're not going, Knight."

"I have to go, you need me out there," she snapped nearly baring her teeth, without hesitating at the fact that she was arguing with a superior officer.

"The rest of us can handle it, you are staying here, where you can't get yourself into any trouble," he instructed her in a firm, no-nonsense tone.

This was one of her closest friends, and it was her own life at stake too. No way was she going to let the sergeant chain her to her desk again after so many weeks of recovery from the stab wound, this was a fight she couldn't sit out of.

"Sir, I specifically told you I didn't want—"

"It doesn't matter what you want you have a target on your back," Fitzgerald commanded over her, with more than the usual grit to his voice.

Her face was hot with anger, she had to bite back her tongue, in a huff, she put her hands on her hips; "Am I under house arrest?"

"Something like that."

In walked Michaels and Brett Mahoney. They sauntered over to them. Mahoney looking mildly apologetic, but they were only doing what was ordered of them.

Riley let out a frustrated grunt. "Seriously? You're putting me under guard? I don't need to be baby-sat."

"If it prevents you from interfering, hell yes you do."

* * *

 **A/N: What did you guys think of that little goodbye? ;) Please leave a review! I'd love to know what you think, I read all of them!**

 **Till next time! :)**


	26. Chapter 26

_Matt_

He was at the precinct with Foggy. His best friend was trying (and failing) to charm McDavis into allowing them to speak to a client in custody. It was late in the evening, but he had a lot of work to catch up on after putting a halt on things last week when Riley almost shot Sweeney.

He still couldn't believe it himself.

He didn't know what to expect when he visited her later that evening to demand an explanation. It was a huge shock to his system, his ear was still buzzing from the ricochet effect of the gunshots from the Punisher's and mafia's guns, and then he'd heard her and his entire world flipped upside down.

Her breaths were long and deep, her pulse was still and calm as a metronome as she aimed the gun at Sweeney's head.

Stick used to say that kind of serenity when a holding weapon meant deadly outcomes.

But in the aftermath, they talked. Really talked. The last time they had a decent conversation was in the church pew after the Reeding incident. She listened, he listened. And for a while, he forgot that she tried to kill Sweeney.

 _Everyone is redeemable, everyone can be forgiven_.

And Matt forgave her, completely, for everything.

He was starting to notice that maybe they were both a little broken, that they both had a bit of darkness inside of them, they tried to hide from the world. For someone as proud as her to admit that she was afraid, made him appreciate the bravery in her honesty. He confessed that he was afraid too. He was glad to share it with her, _with someone_ , to say it out loud.

It felt good and liberating, it felt good to tell her, it felt good to hold her too…

Matt squeezed the handle to his cane tighter, his throat getting thick.

And yet… he can't pretend like that killer potential isn't there, for her to try again; on Sweeney or someone else just as vile.

He did care about her, he couldn't say how much, but enough to want to tug her back from the edge of no return if it happened again.

And maybe, that was more dangerous than he was willing to admit.

They were supposed to meet Brett, but for some reason he was unavailable, Matt noticed Detectives Leo and Malek, leaving the precinct via the door to the car park in a flurry. He knew they were part of Knight's task force under Sergeant Fitzgerald. He listened around and soon enough picked up Brett's voice;

"… _so Fitz didn't explain in much detail,_ " said Brett finishing his sentence off.

Matt realized he was speaking to Detective Knight; _"…They aimed at me but Gale was in the way…the bullet got her."_

He froze, as the pieces of her story fell in place.

She was anxiously picking at her fingernails. Something about them was bothering her; Knight then excused herself to the bathroom. Matt first checked on Foggy whom was still trying his luck with McDavis, and then slipped away too.

He listened to make sure the other stalls were empty before he went in. Knight was scrubbing viciously at her hands as if she meant to slough the skin off. When he pushed the door open she whipped her head around to see who came in, prepared to put on a farce of indifference, until she saw it was him.

"Murdock? Um, this is the ladies bathroom," she scolded with a frown, "I'm sure you didn't come in here by accident."

"No." He smelt the blood she had been trying to get out from beneath her nail beds filter down the drain. Matt walked over to her in quick strides, his blind man persona forgotten. "I had to meet you."

He stopped in front of her. "Are…are you okay?"

She turned off the tap and breathed out unsteadily; "Gale was shot."

"I know," he stepped around her to yank a tissue out of the dispenser.

"They're keeping me here, where I can't do anything about it," she said, her jaw tight, drying her hands with the tissue he gave. The hot water and forceful scrubbing made her hands red and raw.

"What's her condition like?" He asked.

"Still in surgery last I heard, no one will tell me anything." She tossed the used tissue into the trashcan.

"I'll check on her."

Knight glanced up at him, eyes wide; "Really?"

He gave a small shrug, it wasn't a big deal; "Of course." Doing favors for one another was a still a new facet to their relationship that needed some getting used too. Matt was positive they would come around to each other eventually (that is, until another hurdle got in their way).

"That…that would be great. Thank you," she tried to smile but it was strained. "I hope she pulls through."

"She will."

Disheartened, she sucked her teeth, tapping her foot restlessly on the tiles floors; "It could have been me, you know, easily," she ran her fingers through her hair, "It _should_ have been me…"

"Hey, blaming yourself won't get you anywhere."

"It's just… I've been through this before, with Amy," she said with growing panic. "I-I tried to have a normal evening and the next thing I know Gale is dying in my arms," her voice wavered a little. She was breathing in and out in gasps.

"It'll be okay, Knight, it will be," he told her, steadfastly. But he didn't think he was helping at all. _What if I'm talking bullshit? What if she doesn't listen to me?_

"You don't know that," she shook her head, he tasted the salt of tears that pricked her eyes, and it was a monumental effort on her part to keep them from spilling, but an equal effort not to reach out to her. She didn't want the tears to spill, not in front of him, she had the pride of a lion. For as long as he'd known her she was always one to be the stronger person for everyone else. The pillar her brother leaned on.

"I'm sorry she got hurt. We just have to hope for the best now, we have to pray that she will make it through, and that the people who did this will pay."

She swallowed; "You're right," her gaze flickered upwards to his face and lingered there. He heard his breath catch in his throat. "I supposed people like you and I aren't meant to have active social lives," she joked morosely, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's hard to maintain a normal life outside of all of this," Matt agreed with a half-chuckle. "I can count the number of times I've cancelled on Foggy, he misses his drinking buddy."

Normally humor worked to lift her spirits, but it wasn't doing its trick this time, even when he went along with it. There was no more threat of tears but she remained downtrodden and nothing he was saying or doing was making disppear. He felt helpless. She hung her head, and her eyes drifted off, her mind elsewhere.

"Riley," he said her name with more familiarity and warmth than usual, and she looked at him. He's said her first name only a handful of times since they met in the courtroom months ago. _She's scarcely called me Matt too_. He wasn't sure if it was appropriate, or if she'd take it kindly, but so far she didn't react to it adversely.

"Please don't blame yourself for this, I know it's hard not too, but your mind has to be here, in the present, we have to focus now," he said. That seemed to work better than the jokes. She stared at him.

"I'll find them, whoever did this," he promised her. Her eyebrows creased, lips slightly parted, but her eyes were searching, and Matt was unable to discern what she was looking for.

Riley nodded anyway with a tight smile which was all she could muster. "Thanks, Matt."

* * *

 _Riley_

When she returned to Brett in the break room, the officer glanced at her in time to see her and Murdock exit the ladies bathroom together. Michaels had gone to get coffee, leaving Mahoney.

Brett brow turned up inquisitively. "Keeping company with Murdock these days?"

"He's a friend," she shot back, sitting down in her designated seat smack dab in the middle where her every move could be seen and monitored. She knew what he was insinuating.

"That's not what everyone else around here thinks, unfortunately."

She snorted, "lemme guess, they think we're sleeping together?"

He looked apologetic; "pretty much."

"I don't care what anyone thinks." There was a point where she stopped caring about rumors, not that it didn't get to her once in a while but she had more important things to be concerned about then water-cooler gossip.

Brett shrugged "if it helps; everyone thinks Foggy Nelson and I are best friends because he keeps announcing it to the entire planet every time he waltzes in here."

Riley laughed, Foggy constantly did the same to her on every occasion possible, much to her chagrin and definitely to his amusement.

And then her laugh died out when she remembered Gale and what occurred at the bar, that her life was on the line, _what would help is if I knew what her condition was_. She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn, and chose to think on what Matt counselled her; _it's not my fault._

He was right. There was no use in blaming herself. He promised her he would find who tried to kill her, he made the promise as if he had no doubt in the world that he would.

In the bathroom she had been in an anxious fit to wash off the residual dried blood. Matt caught her on the verge of falling apart, _are we friends, or partners? Or just two professionals with similar goals?_ Ran through her head. She hated crying, out of self-respect, she held it together in front of him, she wasn't about to backtrack on her promise to herself to keep her emotions in check when life tested her limits.

But somehow, with him, it was harder to do that. She knew she had keep him at arm's length, but being vulnerable in front of him, and for him to reciprocate it like he did the other night, brought out a closeness she had not felt with anyone for years. _Does he notice it too?_ She thought he may have tried to comfort her but was holding himself back as well, it seemed like they were both building walls.

 _Is it out of mistrust?_

She didn't know him well enough to be sure there would not be an ulterior motive to his actions, whether now or in the future. _Does he genuinely care? Or his he just doing it to gain favour with me? How much do I trust him? How much does he trust me?_ If Gale was here she would probably tell her that Matt is a good person, to stop moping and doubting people, to stop always seeing the negative and try thinking about the positive for once, _something cheesy like that._

But Riley was familiar with disappointment and abandonment, whether it was from fathers, mothers, foster parents, friends, the list was the length of her arm. She feared it; that sinking feeling when you place your hope into something and it ends badly. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop and they would be at each other's throats again.

It was difficult to figure him out, he was the epitome of everything she was not; a lawyer and a vigilante. It was second nature that she would always expect the worse from him, but he never gave her any reason to doubt him. They did disagree with each other, but then he goes and promises to check on Gale and also find who shot at them, _and b_ _esides lying to me about who he was,_ _he's never failed me,_ considering the number of times they saved each other's assess in the past, whether reluctantly or not.

 _He didn't give up on me when I thought he_ _would after what I tried to do._ Riley didn't think she deserved his dedication to her cause, there were other people out there in this dark night who needed Daredevil.

But she had to admit, it was nice to have someone looking out for her.

There was more waiting, an hour felt like four. Riley refused to fall asleep, but drinking the coffee in the break room only made her jittery. There were no new developments; she did learn more about Brett's childhood through his anecdotes about Foggy Nelson.

Eventually her body won and she dozed off on the lumpy break room couch. Tonight was restless sleep and she was constantly on the verge of waking up when a nightmare bothered her.

She woke for real with a start, her eyes flying wide open. It was the crack of dawn. Outside, the midnight blue of the sky was lifting. Groggily she sat up and glanced around. She was alone; Mahoney and Michael's must have gone home when their shift ended. Detective Nora Malek was heading towards her.

"Good morning," Malek greeted.

It was easy to forget what happened, right up until her colleague neared. A hint in Nora's eyes told Riley that something was going on that she hadn't been made aware of, whether by accident or intentionally.

 _Not if I have something to say about it._

"What's going on?" Riley asked her, way too demanding for this God-awful time in the morning.

Nora hesitated, "they have someone in custody; Fitzgerald wants you to stay in here."

"Stay in here?"

"They're bringing him from lockup to the interrogation rooms."

"Why would—" Riley heard footsteps marching upstairs, Brett was leading the man whilst Fitzgerald trailed behind, the trio passed by the windows, a heartbeat passed, her eyes swept over his features. Riley leapt forward from her seated position; "that's him!"

Malek grabbed both her arms and held her back from sprinting to the shooter and beating him to a bleeding mess. "That's him! Hey!" She yelled, but only Fitzgerald turned to her, unfazed by her shouts, probably because he was expecting them.

"Let me go!" She freed herself of Nora but Fitzgerald was marching with a purpose to stop her.

"Knight—"

"If he doesn't talk, I'll make him," she growled, and Fitz gave her a stern fatherly look.

"You aren't going to make him do anything, you will stay here until I finish interrogating him. It took some time to crack him, but now he'll talk freely. I will let you know what he says," he informed her, unyielding.

…

It was difficult to sit still knowing the man who shot her friend was a few doors down from her, but she obeyed her orders. She ranted to Nora and once or twice stood up, willing to risk Fitz's wrath in order to look the asshole in the eye just once, but Malek stayed with her and reasoned with her to let their boss do what he was good at.

An hour later, Fitzgerald returned with more shitty news.

"There are other people who Sweeney wants dead," he said, sitting across from her at the table. The others had joined them; Malek, Leo, Mahoney, and even Croftsky. "Educated guess is that it's anyone involved in cases that could put away big lieutenants in his inner circle. He's more careful nowadays re-building his empire, he doesn't want any lose ends from the past catching up to him."

Croftsky pointed his thumb at her; "So besides looking out for her ass, we've got an unknown figure of _unknown_ potential targets, scattered across the city to find and protect?" He asked, astonished. Riley couldn't even tell him off for being an asshole, because for once she agreed with him, his reaction was what they collectively felt. They would have to accomplish the impossible with _nothing_ to go on, grasping at the air for clues.

"We'll need to get to some more digging," explained Fitz, ignoring Croftsky's rudeness. "This expands the situation beyond you, Knight."

She wanted to snap and say of course she realized the gravity of it but she held her tongue. If what last night's shooter said was true it meant that many more lives were in danger. Sweeney knew the NYPD couldn't possibly go on to protect every single person on this mystery list- even if they had all the names on it- they didn't have the manpower for it.

"I'm going to go home and get changed," Riley stood. Her clothes smelt of the sweat and alcohol from the night before and she needed to wash her hair and feel human again.

"Be back within the hour, you're back on the case," instructed Fitz, "we could definitely use you."

The simple order spoke multitudes; she nodded her thanks to his trust in her ability.

"I have to run an errand in town; I'll drop you off along the way," offered Malek.

The car ride was mostly quiet until they arrived at her block. As Riley went to unbuckle her seatbelt Malek wolf-whistled and said; "mmhm, booty call this early in the morning?"

"What?" Riley followed her gaze and knew instantly from the figure that it was Murdock whom was loitering at her doorstep. _It is too early for this shit._ Malek didn't recognize him immediately but her colleague would definitely not waste an opportunity to tease her about the rumors surrounding her and the lawyer.

Malek squinted; "wait, is that _Murdock?"_ She gasped and then burst into laughter.

Riley fumbled for an explanation, her cheeks heated up; "Yeah um-he's just, well—"

"No, no I'm not judging you, it was a really shit night, you deserve a fine ass man to keep you company, even if he is a crummy lawyer," she made a pouty face as if she smelt a dirty sock.

"Nora we're not—"

"But I mean the hate sex must be fucking mindblowing," she blurted loudly.

 _She is such a loudmouth._ Riley made a 'shut your trap' gesture to her, "maybe keep your voice down."

"Keep my voice down?" Malek said, perplexed, since it was just them in the car and technically, she was speaking at normal volume between them. _U_ _nfortunately people with abnormal hearing can hear every. Damn. Thing._

"Nothing. I'll see you in a bit," Riley opened the door but before she closed it, she couldn't help but try, unlikely as it may be, to put the rumours of her non-existent torrid love affair with the blind lawyer to rest; "I'm not sleeping with him by the way, I mean it. We're just friends."

Malek rolled her eyes, not believing her for a second, "yeah sure you aren't, anyway see you later, have fun!" She winked.

Riley sighed and walked to Matt as Malek drove off. He was dressed for work in a light blue dress shirt; his suit jacket was hanging on his arm. She recalled that he promised to check on Gale for her last night before she fell asleep at the station. "How is she?" Were the first words out of Riley's mouth, her heart in her throat.

"Much better. Gale is in the ICU, her condition is stable."

She breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness, at least she's out of surgery." It would be the last stretch now, supportive treatment, antibiotics, fluids, she would be okay. _She just has to wake up._

"How are you? You were a bit off last night when we talked."

"I'm okay, as okay as I can be after what's happened." She shrugged, taking her keys out of her pocket; "slept in the break room last night, my back hasn't forgiven me for it." Her hot shower and bed were calling for her but she couldn't rest properly until this was over, _at least to some degree._ The way things were looking the second she had peace the universe decided to smash it with another boulder-sized problem. "Do you, um, what to come inside?" Riley asked, this was the first time Matt was here without climbing through her living room window, and also in broad daylight.

"It's fine, I'm going to work now."

She couldn't hold back the temptation to ask; "so, did you uh- hear all that?" Riley referred to Nora's teasing about the 'mindblowing' sex they weren't going to have.

"Yeah," he laughed under his breath at the awkwardness of it. "I didn't know I came off as a crummy lawyer. I try my best to look presentable even though I can't see how I comb my hair," he flattened the top of his head with his palm, self-conscious, and flashed an endearing smile.

"Your hair's fine," she laughed lightly. "I'm sorry about that," she was embarrassed for him, and mortified by how immature her work friends were. It was enough that the officers whispered about her crazy life, what with the suspension and drug addict brother, and that's excluding the 'love affair' with the defense attorney. "We've been seen talking a lot, and Brett saw us walk out of the ladies room together yesterday. Also you're on my brother's case too, so it's no surprise to be honest."

"That's what everyone you work with thinks?" He asked, scratching the back of his head. "I didn't mean for that to happen when I went to check on you in the bathroom. I was worried because, well, you know but— but that wasn't my intention," he stumbled on his words. "I was concerned."

Riley's frown deepened. _Why did I even bring up the topic?_ She pondered at her own stupidity.

"I just—I don't want disrespectful rumors about you to spread is what I'm getting at," he finished. She thought he was blushing too, but it was kind of a warm day.

"No, don't worry, I suppose it's better than them knowing the truth about why we're always talking to each other, right?" She pointed out, which didn't alleviate the abrupt unease in him.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said, but she couldn't read whether he was content with her conclusion. _Good lord, it_ is _too early for anything right now._

"Anyway," Matt waved his cane through the air to brush off the topic that was getting uncomfortable for both of them. "Your team found him. The man who shot her. Good."

She grimaced, "I almost went for his throat. But that's not the worst of it, there's a longer list of names Sweeney is out to kill."

"Who's on it?" He asked, serious now, stepping up onto the stoop with her.

"We're thinking law enforcement reps and officials from the city council. Anyone who could pose a threat to Sweeney."

"Smart place to start. However, the hit on you has got to be more personal than anyone else on that list. "

She made a frustrated noise; "lucky me then."

"So what next?"

"We figure out who else is on that list, save them, and try not to get fucking killed ourselves."

His mouth curved into an ironic smile; "sounds like a plan."

"Unfortunately, it's the only one we've got."

..

When Riley returned to work later, there was a new development.

And not a good one.

"There's been a homicide," Leo announced to her when she walked in.

A chill swept over her. A few minutes later she was leaving the precinct again, as they rolled out to the scene of the crime. It was Fitz, Malek and Riley in the squad car. They pulled up to a street of lovely town houses, with elegant buttresses, and regal looking door knockers. One of them was home to a councilwoman who had once been accused of allying herself with Sweeney earlier in her career. Her association with him was never confirmed, and she publicly spoke out against him before he went underground. It didn't matter for the two decades Sweeney was gone, but evidently it did now, and with grave consequences.

 _Sweeney punishes traitors._

When the car rolled onto the street, they parked and exited the car together. Surprisingly, the councilwoman was Jacinta Bright, who was very much alive, dressed in her pant suit, with gray shooting through her straw blonde hair, crying into a silk handkerchief. Riley frowned in confusion, _if it's not her who was killed, who's dead then…?_

She got her answer; it was Bright's mother.

"A single bullet to the head," the first responder told Fitz when they approached. Police were filling into the scene and the forensics' department just arrived.

"Why did they kill her mother when Jacinta is the one who backstabbed Sweeney?" Nora whispered to her.

She stared at back of the mother's head on the pavement, bits of brain and a pool of blood beneath the body. An officer covered the body with a black tarp. Riley's own fingers were tingling with fear and disgust at the gruesome sight, but she forced herself not to look away.

"It sends a message," she snuck a peek at Jacinta wailing against a police officer, "keeps councilwoman Bright in line too, for future use."

"I've read about the victim, she's been in the paper a few times; Margaret Bright was seventy years old give or take, a woman of the people. She loved to adopt dogs from the shelter," Nora's face was pale; "how many more bodies of harmless old women are we going to get?"

Fitzgerald finished talking to the first responder. "If she's alive, this means he's targeting the families," he said to them. "It's clever, the targets will start moving their loved ones, be brought out of hiding into the open, and the hitman will hunt. They won't know where to go, where's safe, and he will strike."

"This is just an isolated incident," said Riley, understanding what he implied, _Tommy's in danger._ They couldn't establish a pattern just yet, with only one murder. "We can't be sure that's how he wants to play this."

"True, next hit might be an actual target and not a family member. Nevertheless, you might want to contact your brother, Knight."

…

Riley sent a patrol car to her mother's house where Tommy was staying and badgered him over the phone to stay indoors and obey a curfew. They were necessary precautions. She wanted to do more, but it would have to do for now.

When Fitz returned from the prison after speaking to a contact she got another angle to the case; "this is a list of Meldon's known associates who aren't incarcerated with him. All of them are hired killers. I want a thorough background check on all of them," he handed her a file and she got to work. They were trying to figure out if Sweeney hired professional killers to do his bidding, he was more meticulous and clean with his tactics now, hiring a pro would be less messy than advertising the order to any odd crook with a gun.

Meldon had a lot of ex-friends on the outside he was willing to rat out. She worked for hours, and before she knew it, it was getting late. Riley was on her third cup of coffee by then, the mugs were left unwashed in a row next to her on her desk. Nothing relevant was coming up in her searches; Malek and Croftsky had already left for the day leaving her and Leo, eventually he wanted to head home too.

He came up to her chair to say goodbye, not bothering to cover a loud yawn. "You should check on your brother."

"I've been avoiding my mum for this long I'm not about to actively go over there to argue with her. She has a lot to say about this whole situation. She blames me of course." ' _You are a bad sister,' 'you don't think about the risks,'_ were some examples. She cut their calls over the phone short. Riley knew her family was in danger, and maybe it was her fault, but she owned up to it. Now she was trying to do something about it.

"Turn in for the day then, you will get more done when you're well rested."

"How do you expect me to go home and sleep? There's a killer on the loose!" She huffed, the caffeine making her irritable.

"We're not robots, Riley," he replied, unperturbed by her attitude. Nothing could ever dampen Leo's spirits.

"Just go—I'm staying a little bit longer to finish this search," she said waving him away, as she typed on her keyboard the name, _Waterhouse._

"Suit yourself," he said.

Police data on Waterhouse appeared on her screen, he had a lengthy rap sheet. Riley didn't make much of it until she scrolled down to older records on him. She reached 1995 and was about to scroll further down when miraculously; she found something. Finally a connection. She read the first degree homicides Waterhouse had been accused of and then she stopped at a name. Her eyes widened, she clutched the side of the screen, reading the same line 10 times. She leaned back, read it again, and then her mouth dropped open.

Riley debated whether she should leave her finding alone, but then she thought that she if she were in Matt's shoes she would want to know. She texted him to meet and printed out the necessary documents. She slipped away and made an excursion to the rooftop about 20 minutes later.

He was a silhouette leaning on a low wall, it was a warm night, but the weather would start to cool down in the weeks to come. He was in his Daredevil suit, coming over from God knows where. That awkwardness from earlier in the day was a thing of the past.

Riley skipped the usual niceties and went right to the point; she explained to him what they found, the death of the innocent Margaret Bright. "…so Fitz went to speak to Meldon who's been hired by Sweeney in the past. This guy they went to visit, he has associates. One of them; Andrew Waterhouse," she held up the file for him to take and paused, hesitating; which he took as the moment for him to chime in.

"What about the man who shot Gale?" He asked, "was he a contract killer?"

"He was a piece of shit who wanted to get lucky," she bit out with a tinge of hate. "He doesn't matter; but this guy," she shook the file at him, "he could do it for real and not just kill me, but get everyone on Sweeney's Hit list. At least it was what he used to do back in the day," _twenty years ago, actually._ "These killers have a network; they know who's doing what job, some of them are allies some of them are enemies."

"And what's special about this particular man?" He took off a glove and outstretched his hand for her to give him the file, for a moment she felt like a massive idiot for forgetting to print out a copy in Braille, but he ran his fingers over the document and said; "Andrew Waterhouse?"

"He," she stopped, reconsidering it.

He noticed that and frowned, he stepped closer; "What? Tell me."

 _No turning back now._ She breathed in through her nose; "He shot your dad."

His mouth opened and closed a few times; "What?"

"He shot—"

"I heard you," he gritted out, he held out his hand to slow things down; "W-What are you saying? What—what do you mean he _shot_ my dad?"

"Your dad got in trouble with the mafia right?" She said steadily, as the air electrified with tension. "Sweeney hired him to carry out the hit."

"Him?" He shoved his finger at the file in his other hand.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" He raised his voice.

"We have records; this is from 1995," she took the file from him and opened it, and pulled out the print out, not that he could see it, but he would know she meant the truth by listening to her heartbeat or whatever he paid minute attention too to weed out liars. "That was the year it happened, right? The date was—"

"I know when it was," he cut her off again, more irately. "You don't have to remind me."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, "I wasn't sure at first. I was taken aback too."

"That's the understatement of the century," he lashed out but she knew it wasn't directed at her. His fists were in a ball at his sides. "So where is he? Waterhouse?" He demanded, "What prison?"

"No prison," she said unable to phrase the information she found to him in a non-excruciating way. She licked her lips; "He's…well he's free."

Something dangerous rippled over Matt's face, but it morphed back to being flat and tightly controlled.

She kept explaining to him, as his silence was his suggestion to keep going. "He was caught, but not for your dad's murder. He tried to kill someone else and failed but didn't serve his full sentence; he had a fancy lawyer that got him out on parole. No one could tie him to your dad's case either. The circumstances stated he was in the wrong place, wrong time when the murder occurred. There was not enough evidence or it was buried," said Riley, ashamed to even say it out loud. The corruption was so thick even back then, they epically failed to handle the case. "It kind of just— your dad's case fell through the cracks." She felt guilty even though it was none of her fault. "I'm sorry."

There was a tick to his jaw as he grimaced; "That's bullshit," he hissed.

"It is."

"I know who killed him, why he was killed," said Matt, indignantly, he shook his head roughly. "I never got the truth, I just had to accept that it was what it was, and try to move on," his voice was deep and pained.

"I know that. Plenty of people know that your dad was involved with the gang and the consequences of that cost him his life, but—"

"But it's too late for justice," he snorted derisively. "Fucking two decades too late." He rested his hands on his hips facing away from her, his back was rising and falling as he took lungfuls of air in.

"It's not too late," she said, trying to break the tense moment, but he stayed quiet. Her face twisted; "maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

"You had too," he replied, soberly. "So—" he let out a sharp breath to temper his fury; "so what about him then? This guy who shot my dad?"

"He's not a suspect, but he might know something about who has the contract, and it could help us… help me." Riley had no expectations here, she knew she was being unreasonable, but she couldn't hide half the case from him to save him from the unpleasant news.

He swallowed deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing. He took his mask off, and faced her;

"You want me to talk to the man who killed my father?"

She shook her head; "I'm not asking anything—"

"But you want me too, right?" He pressed.

"I don't," Riley said, ensuring that was clear cut. "I wouldn't put you through that, I thought-" she tried to retrace her thought process, "you deserved to know, maybe it would give you some closure, even if it's just this." As she said it, she knew it was a feeble.

"It's not much closure," he said, darkly. "He's still free."

"Questioning him yourself might not be the best idea, you're too close to it. I just had to let you know that he was involved in your dad's death, but he also may be innocent. His association with Sweeney makes him of interest to us, however. The team and I will go to his residence tomorrow and ask him whatever is relevant to the current case," she hoped he would follow with what she was getting at.

"I'll talk to him tonight," he nodded, "I can do it."

"Matt," she found herself moving closer to him, "You don't have too," Riley reiterated.

"You're going to stop me?" He asked cautiously, testing their boundaries.

"I'm not," she said, his eyebrows raised an fraction. "I know how much this means to you," she said with a one shoulder shrug, "and even if it's against the law, for this one time I'm letting you find him before us. I just wouldn't advise that you do it tonight until you've had some time to process it."

"I don't need time to process it, it's crystal clear. If this will help, I'll talk to him," he replied, with mutton-headed stubbornness. "This is why you told me about him, so I can hear it for myself, what happened to my father, and also to help you."

She stepped even closer until his features were more visible to her in the low light; "I know what it looks like when you're trying to control your anger. You're fine now, but if you go there being emotionally attached to what he did; we don't know what he'll say, or if he'll try to dog you into doing something you'll regret. Your head needs to be sharp and at its best."

"Sweeney gave the order, Waterhouse was just the executioner, I know the difference," he said rigidly. "I will be fine, you're giving me this chance for justice, let me do it, let me have it."

After telling her three times that he'd do it, there was no swaying him against it. Riley had to be content with his answer because their choices were slim; "Okay, I believe you. I hope you get the answers you need."

Following that, she watched him leave the rooftop by jumping off into the endless darkness.

 _Let's hope this doesn't end with another man in a coma._

* * *

 _Matt_

He slowed down as he reached Waterhouse's home. He on edge more than usual, there was also a heaviness in his chest as he pushed back memories of his father. Matt had no idea what he wanted to say to Waterhouse, but he promised Knight that he would control himself. Maybe for the sake of his sanity it was better he didn't know his father's murderer was living and breathing and free from handcuffs. She knew him more than he thought she did; if she didn't say anything and he found out later he would have been pissed.

Matt was meant to have dealt with the rage over his father's death. _The orphanage happened, and then Stick._ He let out whatever residual anger he had on criminals every single night. It was what charged him. _Do I dig up my past or let it stay where it belongs? Am I prepared to put myself through this?_ Another point she was correct on making; he needed more time to process it rather than race over to confront Andrew Waterhouse the same evening. He tried his hardest to keep his life simple; go to church, go to Nelson  & Murdock, be Daredevil at night. Opening old wounds and letting people in (like the Detective), were making things far more complicated than they need to be.

 _What if I am pushed off the edge when he talks? Do I really know my own strength?_

It was too late to turn back now as he had arrived.

He stopped a few doors down and assessed the entryways of the house. The home was suburban and modest, with a neat small garden and a Welcome rug on the porch; you wouldn't believe a former professional killer lived there. Waterhouse was coming down the stairs, he was tall, late 50's, still springy but his back was a little bent from age and wear. Matt tried to smell for gun powder in case there was a hidden arsenal in the home, but he was distracted by a younger heart beat approaching Waterhouse's front door.

Andrew heard the knock, glanced at a clock on the wall and then scoffed under his breath. _"Did you forget the keys again, Jeremy?"_ He went to open the door.

 _"Hey dad."_

Matt feet's remained planted where he was, he didn't breathe.

 _"Did you forget your keys again, son?"_ Andrew smiled wryly, shaking his head.

 _"Yeah, sorry,"_ sulked the teenage boy, around 16 or 17 he started to take off his backpack.

 _"Three things Jer; keys, wallet, phone. It's not rocket science,"_ he scolded, counting them off as he closed the door behind his kid. _"Now, how was the date?"_

 _"I think it went well,"_ smiled Jeremy. _"We're going to meet up tomorrow to study for the Spanish test."_

Andrew laughed softly and patted his son on the back; " _Ah see, I told you not to worry, a simple apology to your lady- even if you have no idea what she's even mad about- goes a loonng way."_ He wagged a knowing finger at Jeremy; " _On another note; I got the tent for the camping trip."_

The pair kept conversing and laughing, Andrew ruffled his son's hair in the way that Matt's dad used too.

Matt felt a hole swallow him up.

They were a family. They were happy. Andrew Waterhouse has a young son. Matt felt a hint of bitterness that his dad never saw him grow up, _he couldn't be there to give me advice on girls, to go on trips together_ , _to see me go to college..._

He could wait for the son to go to sleep and then sneak in to catch Waterhouse before he went to bed, he would trip him up and raise his fist...

 _No. I can't. What am I thinking? If his kid wakes up? If his kid finds him..._

The air was suffocating. Matt turned around and walked away. He just couldn't bring himself to do it.

* * *

 _Riley_

The next morning, she went to work wondering what was the outcome of Matt's expedition to speak to Andrew Waterhouse. Before they could discuss what they found the previous night, Fitzgerald received a call from the hospital. Gardner, one of Sweeney's men who was in a coma after Matt threw him out a window, was awake.

Leo and Riley were given the task to speak with him and see if he had any dirt on his former- or current- boss, the fact was still unclear. As the two of them walked down the wing, they saw Frank Sinjon leaving Gardner's room. Riley was still not a fan of him. She wanted to trust him, she did believe in the power of second chances, after recently getting one from Matt when she almost went American sniper on Sweeney. Yet she couldn't help but suspect he was a mole.

"Sinjon? You got what you were looking for?" Riley asked him, a bit agitated. But to be fair, Sinjon was the lead in Daria's case, and he had more jurisdiction over what happened to Gardner from this point on than they did.

"Yeah, we're going to move him into a safe house now. Sweeney or the Italians will be here to finish him off once they get wind that he's conscious."

Thankfully, Leo mistrusted Sinjon as much as Riley did, and he understood that the stakes were high; "whoa, not immediately, we need him for questioning."

"He's not interested in sharing any more than he already has," countered Sinjon.

"We'll get him talking then," Leo smiled, "I've been told I'm a great conversationalist."

"He's in danger every second he's in that hospital room," Frank argued. A dirty cop and Russian mobster were murdered in this hospital earlier in the year because of poor hospital security, they couldn't afford for that to happen again.

"C'mon Sinjon don't choose today to be a dick," said Riley. "Old ladies are getting shot in the head. We just wanna know who his boss wants to kill next."

And with that, he relented, Riley was quite pleased with herself. They entered Gardner's room, he was sitting up in the bed he was handcuffed too. There was no TV in the room to keep his mind preoccupied so he was glowering at a blank wall. She wondered how sharp he would be after only waking up a few hours ago. His face was gaunt and he was thin, but the wariness and hate in his eyes told them he had a bit of fighting spirit left despite being in custody and hospitalized, "more detectives, eh?" He said, as if he tasted a bad lemon, as they neared his bed.

"Julian Gardner. I'm Detective Riley Knight, this is Detective Benito Leo. Do you remember me?"

Gardner's eyes flickered between them, "Yeah I do. How's your head?" He sneered.

She chose to ignore that; "A lot has changed since I last saw you." _The lump on my head become the least of my worries after getting shivved by a psycho._

"I bet."

"I'm sorry, but you don't have the luxury of using minimal words today, Julian," Leo said, crossing his arms leaning casually on the bed.

"Your boss has ruined the lives of many poor, innocent women. Some of them were lucky enough to run away, some turned up dead, with no bodies," she said, remembering their faces as they if it were yesterday.

"Classic mafia move," Leo remarked.

"The Italians were out of line back then," said Julian, his tongue getting loose, but he was still holding back. "But as you said, a lot has changed in such a short span of time. As for me, I said all I needed too, to your colleague. I'm done."

"You're going somewhere safe Julian and you don't have much to lose," Leo pointed out. "Why not share some more?"

Fear struck him, the handcuff jangled; "I've said too much, he'll know. You think he won't find me? He will. Their allies now, aren't they? Him and Federico? They'll both come after me. And they'll do what Freddy did to that hooker."

 _Decapitate you, you mean?_ "You don't have a lot of faith in the loyalty of your boss," Riley stated.

Gardner was still trying to deflect from the questions; "listen; I didn't murder anyone I swear, I just snooped for him. I have nothing more to offer."

When it was Leo and Knight interrogating; Leo had the more subtle approach, the good cop, the one to drop suggestions for the criminal to open up to them as if it were out of their own accord. Riley was much better at intimidation and guilt tripping. She wrapped a hand around the bar on the hospital bed and leaned forward quickly to startle him; "Sweeney declared war on the people of this city. He has a kill list. But he's not hurting the people who could bring him down, no," she shook her head slowly, "he's going after their loved ones. We need names of people who he wants dead."

Julian shook his head in distress, "I don't know, I-"

She slapped a piece of paper and pen onto the blanket over his legs. "Why don't you try? And then maybe we'll consider getting you into a witness protection program outside of New York. Florida maybe? It'll get colder here, but it'll be warm there even in November. It'll also be a lot of safer than staying at a safe house here in Hell's Kitchen. How does that sound?"

"You can make that happen?"

"I can, if you cooperate."

After some trepidation, he gulped, "can you give me your guarantee of my safety? I need to know."

"You have it. We know you're valuable, why else would we be here?" She shrugged like it was so obvious to everyone except him. She made eye contact with him, he was there the night Daria was brutally murdered, he knew what was happening to innocent women across their city and he did nothing to stop it, their exploitation was indirectly his source of income. "Why would we leave you hanging out to dry, when you could help us get Sweeney? Think about it Julian. If you help us stop him, we can help you get far away from him."

He let out a shaky breath and reached for the pen; "Fine. I'll put some names down, but this is-this may not be worth looking into, it's my predictions, it's people he may want-"

She plopped down in the chair adjacent to the bed, "just write down whomever you remember."

...

Satisfied with what they had, Riley was smiling ear to ear as she folded the paper Gardner wrote on in half. Patrol officers came over to take Gardner into official custody. Detective Benito was walking in line with her as they exited the hospital elevator in the underground carpark.

He was nonplussed; "We're not the FBI, Knight, there's no way we can get him into witness protection outside of New York, let alone Florida of all places. We don't know what strings to pull to make that happen."

She stopped, tilted her head at him, "c'mon Ben, you know I was lying."

Sometimes her savagery shocked even her.

* * *

 _AN: I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. This was quite a hard one to write, what with the push and pull between Matt and Riley, uncertainty on both sides. Man, slowburn's aren't easy! Also, maybe some of you will not like how mean/manipulative Riley is, and maybe some of you will. Bottom line; I don't like writing people who are goody toe shoes 24/7. She has good intentions and a goal in mind, but sometimes you need to be savage to get what you want! Anyway, my rambling aside, I have most of the last part of this arc in editing so expect it soon 3 See you._

 _P.S. finally fleshing out some of Riley's work friends with full names lol, I thought it was time. Hope it doesn't get confusing. It's Nora Malek and Benito Leo thus far._


	27. Chapter 27

**Hope everyone is doing great! Finals week is here so I am swamped with studying. Can you believe it's a couple of weeks till the end of 2017? I'm almost halfway through med school OMG. To anyone who's new or has been there since 2015 when I published this, thanks for taking the time to read my little story.**

 **Enjoy xx**

* * *

 _Riley_

When she and Leo returned to the precinct after the hospital, Riley tried to call Matt to ask whether he had ever gotten around to interrogating Waterhouse. She had expected a call from him last night but he never contacted her or paid her a visit. They were speaking nearly everyday for the past week since he chose to make her problem his problem so it was strange that he was out of contact, _o_ _f all the days he chooses to go MIA on_ _me_. She dialled his burner phone but gave up when he didn't answer on the third ring.

They were at the station for less than an hour before she left again with Fitzgerald to pick up Waterhouse for questioning.

"I gave the list of targets to Malek and Croftsky, they're on it," she informed her boss on the way.

Waterhouse's home was in a middle class block of walk up apartments. When they got out of the car, Fitz treaded next to her; "one thing Knight; Waterhouse isn't what you'd expect."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

But his answer was just as cryptic; "He's not what he used to be."

Andrew Waterhouse answered on the first knock. He was of average height, with a balding head and sharp features. His light brown eyes were narrowed to slits at them. Fitz was right, he wasn't what she unexpected, because he didn't look nervous or jittery to see them.

 _Did Matt ever get to him last night?_

But what really took her off guard was when Waterhouse recognized her boss; "Fitzgerald," he tilted his chin up at the sergeant warily, expecting the coming discourse to be about something that would ruin his mood, which was highly accurate.

"Andrew," Fitz replied, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets, "I was hoping we could have a word."

"We're talking now aren't we? Why'd you bring the kid with training wheels along?"

It took Riley a moment to recognise that Andrew was referring to her. She was about to form a clap back when Fitzgerald intervened.

"We need you to come the station with us. Talk away from your kid."

 _His kid?_

A teenager around 18 or 17 barrelled down the staircase behind Waterhouse, he was a photocopy of Andrew but younger and shorter.

"Dad?" He asked reaching them, Andrew held out a protective hand to stop him from barging through the front door to join them on the porch. "What's- what's going on? Who are they?"

She looked between Waterhouse and his son, and understood why Matt didn't talk to him last night.

"Old friends Jer," Andrew lied, giving his son a 'not now' look. "Get back inside; I'll be with you in a minute."

Jeremy was unconvinced and stubbornly stood his ground; "Dad, are you sure?"

"Go back inside," he ordered more sternly and Jeremy listened. Andrew closed the front door behind him so it was just them on the porch and his kid wouldn't be able to eavesdrop. "You're interrupting an afternoon I'm supposed to spend with my kid, Luke."

 _First name basis with the sergeant too? How well do they know each other?_ She heard stories of the sergeant's rocky history with the police force earlier in his career. He'd bent the rules and made questionable alliances, but that was decades ago and tales could be exaggerated when they were told behind Fitz's back. _Not like I don't have my own skeletons to hide._

"Whatever it is—go find someone's else to get involved," retorted Andrew.

"It's Roscoe Sweeney," Riley cut in, not about to give up so easily.

He paused, and his frown deepened into recognition and trepidation; "Uh huh, so he's back?"

"He's settling old grudges," she added gravely. "The quick way, if you take my meaning. Someone's already died."

"Your name came up Waterhouse, as you'd expect," said Fitz. "You've worked for him before."

Andrew stared with icy blankness at him; "allegedly."

She did not like it one bit, father or not, there was a remnant of his past life still kicking around inside of him. "We could use your help."

He gave a fleeting glance at his house as if to give it one last look before it disappeared forever, but she knew Fitz would never let something awful happen to his criminal 'acquaintance'.

"If I go with you, you have to promise to help me in exchange."

Fitzgerald and Riley shared a look, it seemed obvious to her they had to be 110% against it from the beginning.

"We—" she started.

Until Fitz bulldozed over her; "Deal. Come with us," he angled his head to the car.

Riley stared in shock, holding in her gasp.

Waterhouse stopped before he followed them; "Let me tell my kid what's going on? He's eyeing us from the living room." They saw Jeremy duck behind the windowsill.

"Be quick."

When Waterhouse went inside to speak to his son, Riley addressed her itching concerns about him to the sergeant;

"Are you sure about this? You don't know what he's going to ask. It could be anything."

Fitzgerald shook his head knowingly. "A man with a son that age, I have pretty good idea where his priorities lie."

…

 _Matt_

It was daylight, and the day was particularly hot and stuffy. He could feel the heaviness of the air clog his throat. In his office wear he climbed up onto the rooftop, walking stick discarded, checking for any scents that could lead him to the Punisher. He was on the opposite building overlooking the warehouse where the crime boss meeting took place, heading towards the place where the Punisher set his position to take them out in one bloody massacre.

Last night had been more difficult on him than he could have imagined.

He left Andrew Waterhouse's premises and went straight back into patrolling, letting out more of his pent up rage than usual on the low lives that he came across. At that point, he was not doing it to save anyone, he was just doing it to ease his pain. And at that point; Matt realised that he may be way in over his head. That may not be able to handle this as well as he thought he could- emotionally. And because of that he was losing focus on other dangers in the city. He was too personally attached to Detective Knight's case. Too invested in it.

For more reasons besides the fact that Sweeney killed his father.

His phone vibrated in his pocket signalling a call, _"Knight, Knight, Knight."_

He put it on silent. She had called a couple of times now, he could see her face in his mind and how livid she must be with him. Her forehead wrinkling, tongue poised to tell him off with no mercy. He had an inkling of what she wanted to ask him, of what she wanted to discuss. But he was not ready to rip open old wounds.

Just as he approaching the exact area he had the Punisher traded blows, he got another phone call, _"Foggy, Foggy, Foggy."_ Matt ignored that too. It was work related of course. But he couldn't deal with anyone then, not even his best friend. He felt lost in an endless spiral of remorse, guilt, loneliness. It was overwhelming. He could only think about was his father, and so easily he was hurt by the loss all over again, as if he'd taken a knife to the chest and someone was trying to core his heart out.

He didn't know what to do, he didn't know who to talk too.

The only thing he knew was clear as water was the gunpowder residue left by the Punisher by the roof's edge, he bent down and touched the ground, concentrating, letting the particles embed into his fingers tips. Matt chose to let his mind stray with that for a while.

...

 _Riley_

As the three of them hurried towards an empty interrogation room, Riley fell back until she and the sergeant were out of earshot of Waterhouse; "how does he know you by first name?"

"I've gone to him in the past for intel when he was locked up. He seems like he's trying to be a good man now."

 _A good man with questionable morals, who isn't doing the time he's supposed to be._ His reputation preceded him; he may or may not have killed Jack Murdock but he did kill others. She narrowed her eyes to the back of Andrew's head, knowing exactly what the consequences of his hit on Matt's dad cost him.

She had to try at least, for Matt's sake. "Sarge, the people he killed for Sweeney, we can't ignore the-"

"Focus on the case at hand," he shut her down. _The second time today._

Feeling the sting of rebuke, they entered the interrogation room. Waterhouse sat at the head of the table, Riley and the sergeant on either side of it.

"Before we get into things. What can we do to help you in return?" Fitzgerald asked. Riley observed the exchange in silence, trying to harmonise the fact that the man in front of her was once a hired killer and was now on the straight and narrow path to becoming a saint and America's No.1 Father.

 _Even the worst of the worst can become good, it must be what Murdock's believes so strongly in when he goes to church and never kills._

Riley was still the skeptic however. It would take more than one repenting contract killer to make her change her mind completely.

"Jeremy's trying to get into college and there's a bogus D&D on his record. He was dumb. But his mother and I went through hell and back to set him straight," he stabbed at the table. "He's on a clear path now, except for this one stain on his record. I want it off."

Fitz pressed his lips together in disagreement; "That'll take too long, we don't have that time."

"I just need your word and a handshake Luke, that you'll get it cleaned. It's enough, I know you'll do as I've asked."

The sergeant didn't take a beat to consider it or even consult her privately, he nodded once and offered his hand, as if that was all it would take; "you have it."

 _Why am I here, if he's ignoring my opinion entirely?_ It still wasn't sitting well with her however.

As they were about to move on to the meatier questions, Detective Malek came knocking on the door and poked her head in, her demeanour suggested she had more grim news to deliver;

"Knight, Sarge. We need to roll out."

...

Riley never got uncomfortable seeing dead bodies, at most she was worried she would get a blood stain on her shirt, which meant she would need serious elbow grease to scrub it out or fork out cash to buy a new one. The various smells didn't unsettle her; the gruesome way they died did not haunt her nightmares weeks afterwards. She tried not to think to hard on the lives they may have led before they were murdered and a bystander or witness had to call detectives like her to investigate. As a rookie, she had not handled it very well, but eventually she got used to it.

Everything she learnt over the years; the thick skin she built started to chip away when she saw the next victim was a 15-year-old girl.

She took one look at the young figure in the prep school uniform, light brown hair; matted with dark red blood and she nearly heaved at the crime scene. She backed away from her colleagues, from her boss, from the forensics' team, as far away as she possibly could without totally abandoning her post and found a small corner to hyperventilate in.

She's seen dead children before, but this time was miles different. She tried to tell herself it wasn't her fault, but she still felt responsible. _We can't find them fast enough, we can't protect them, the hunt started because of me._ _She was just a kid._ Once upon a time she could have been that dead teenager, if she had not been careful, considering the trouble and bad crowd she purposefully got herself associated with in order to rebel.

But this girl was innocent; her life had been totally normal for someone her age, and just like that, one bullet ended it forever because her father was someone Sweeney didn't like.

 _Breathe in. And Out. Breathe in. And Out._ Riley grabbed her keys in her pocket and squeezed them with a vice grip, wanting the metal to leave an indent on her skin, draw blood, she didn't care. Yet of course her brain had to play tricks on her, she saw death. She imagined the girl's body was actually Tommy's or hers, or Alfie's. Then there was Gale again, blood flowing out of her neck, and for some reason she saw Matt too, he had no mask on but the blood on his chest was slick and as red as his suit. Afterwards it was nothing but pure inexplicable panic, her breath whistling in and out of her dry mouth. She could feel sweat break on her forehead and hear her heart thump in her ears.

 _It's not your fault. It'll be okay, it will be okay; it has to be okay, get it together, get it together._

"Riley?"

She jolted and spun around, still breathing heavily as though she'd run a marathon. Leo was standing a few feet behind her looking very concerned.

She tried to find a nonchalant way of explaining why she was hiding; "oh, I-I'm fine, just a bit—"

"I know," replied Ben, nodding in solemn understanding, everyone was taking the hit harshly, flogging themselves for it; "I hate it too. But we gotta get back to work; Fitz wants to speak to all of us, come back before he notices you're not there."

She let out a long breath and nodded, trailing behind him to the crime scene. _There's work to do._

…

Riley tried to settle her nerves and figure out a way they could get through this, stop the killing, stop the bloodshed. Her body was tense like a coiled spring, fingers electric, she felt fragile like porcelain that was cracking under heat from the oven. She tried Matt again, once, twice, three times and he still didn't answer.

 _Where the hell is he?_

She texted him on his personal phone to call her back asap.

...

"Our killer's latest victim," Fitz placed the picture of 15- year old Camila Trescott before Andrew. "Who could have done this?" He questioned, his cordial tone from earlier was gone.

Waterhouse blinked down at the picture and pushed it away, disturbed by the turn of events; "In my time, things were different, we didn't go after the families," he said sombrely never moving his gaze from Camila's young face; "There was honour."

That was the last straw with Riley. "'Honour?'" She guffawed, moving her head forward to force Andrew to meet her scorching glare. "Is everyone else here buying this _bullshit?"_ She demanded rhetorically, directing her gaze to the one-sided glass window where the rest of the team were observing her rage induced rant.

"Knight." Fitz stood up, his chair roughly scraping the floor. The vein in his forehead was pulsing as he kept his cool yet stern manner. He ushered her out, she didn't hesitate to follow him.

"Pull yourself together;" he hissed at her, finally letting his anger loose once they were in the hallway. "You're making a fool out of yourself, the team, the entire precinct."

He may be half-shouting at her, but Riley's blood was boiling too hot for her to notice; "Or what? You'll bench me again? I don't care what you promised him. I read his file in excruciating detail, he should be serving _life."_

"What he did in the past, is _irrelevant_ to this case," Fitz stopped her with a silencing finger. He closed his hand into a fist and massaged his temple, lowering his volume as he lashed out at her; "I know it's been a difficult few months for you. But your outburst is not going to make things better. Obviously your head is somewhere it shouldn't be right now, and that's not helping save anyone. Take a few minutes and come back inside when you're not completely useless, we're not done with him yet."

The sergeant turned without another word, opened the door and near slammed it behind him, leaving Riley part infuriated and part ashamed at her unruly behaviour. She blindly swung and her knuckles rapped against the wall, as she let out a frustrated scream that had been sitting like a stone in her throat for days. She could not bear to go into the room with the others after they'd probably eavesdropped on her meltdown.

Her phone rang in her pocket. It was Matt. _Finally._

"Where have you been?" She asked, at the same time he said, _"what's going on? What happened?"_

She took a deep breath in and explained the latest murder to him.

" _Are you okay?"_ He questioned when she was done, _"You don't sound-"_

"I'm fine, I'll text you the address and you can check it out yourself," she interrupted, getting straight to the point because if he tried to console her in any way shape or form she might snap in two. "Forensics should be done after another hour."

There was a pregnant pause on his end that spoke volumes; _"Did you bring in Waterhouse?"_ He finally asked.

"We did. He's here, but we haven't gotten around to interrogating him fully," she told him. "He didn't look too shaken up, so I guess you never went to him."

 _"I don't know if I could... I can't explain it,"_ he said, hesitantly, and then cleared his throat; _"It doesn't matter."_

It must be bothering him, but they didn't have time to dish their emotions, people were dying; "He's agreed to help us, if we'll help his kid out."

She heard the faint intake of breath and imagined he was glowering at the wall this instant; " _from my understanding;_ _it sounds like y_ _ou made a deal,"_ he concluded.

"I'm sorry," she said, genuinely upset over it too, knowing how it might effect Matt.

 _"I can't believe this. You showed me the records Riley, I know what he's done, is that the end of it? He helps us and we ignore his shady past?"_

"I know that's not something you'd want to hear. It took me off guard too."

 _"I'm not surprised,"_ he said, the glacier-like coldness could be felt through the phone. _"At least he cares about something in the world, he obviously didn't when he murdered my dad."_

"I tried to get Fitz to see it from my perspective but it only earned me a slap on the wrist. I wish it wasn't this way-"

 _"'But is has to be'- is that what you were going to say?"_ He cut her off abruptly.

 _Why does it suddenly feel like an attack on me? "_ Whoa, you don't have to get so hostile, don't forget I'm on your side here."

 _"I have every right to be,"_ he said in a shouted whisper, probably to not alert the suspicions of Karen or Foggy wherever he was working. _"He's a free man who got off on a false claims."_

"Yes, I know-"

 _"We're working together to put away the bad guys who are threatening your family and the ones who killed mine. Yet we don't seem to be getting anywhere with that, are we?"_

She really did not want to have this conversation over the phone, she needed a breather after the scolding from Fitz. "Matt, we don't have time to discuss the morality of it."

 _"The morality of it?"_ He said, aghast. _"Are you kidding me?"_

"We can talk about it in person," she tried to reason. "Right now-"

" _You know what? I think I've heard enough about him. Do whatever you want with him, make a deal with him, heck give him a medal while you're at it."_

 _"_ I'm truly sorry," she said stonily, enunciating her words. "Do you at least believe that?" She did mean it even if it didn't sound the least bit apologetic then. He was being no help at all. At this point with the mounting pressure she was under, she would be glad never to have to talk to him ever again.

He wasn't being himself, he rudely dismissed her apology and jumped to another topic; " _Since_ _we're being honest I_ _wanted to tell you,_ _I've been tracking the Punisher. I figured out where he gets his weapons, that's a place to start."_

It was a huge curveball, and she took a second to follow his train of thought; "wow okay... and why are you mentioning this to me now?" She asked, when she wanted to rip his head off, _since_ _we have a million other problems to deal with._

 _"Well I think I'm onto something,"_ he replied, offhandedly.

"Is that why you were screening my calls?" She wanted to know, annoyed.

 _"I was preoccupied with this."_

"Clearly. And you're going after him?"

 _"I have to find him. I didn't get him when I had the chance, he's loose and he's been running a rampage across the city undeterred,"_ he replied, his fight mantra clearly ironed out to perfection, prepped for whenever he came face to face with the Punisher again.

 _"_ You mean, you didn't get him because of me," she said bluntly, a touch hurt that he was throwing shade on her, and practically blaming her for what happened. _You stopped me from killing Sweeney, I stopped you from apprehending the Punisher, and look where we ended up. Still chasing the same demons and ghosts, held back by the other person._ Were they partners or chains on the other person's leg?

There was a beat of silence, but they did not speak of it further, " _I have to find him, that's all I know,"_ was his empty, deflecting response. Probably for both of their benefits because that was another fight they didn't need to superimpose on top of this one, _or two, or three, I can't keep track_.

"Matt I know you have a score to settle but we don't have time for this. A child is dead, we need to stop this _first._ "

 _"I just need tonight. I can't be around this."_

"He can wait," she said between clenched teeth.

 _"Your team and your sergeant will hold the fort. Andrew Waterhouse is there to help too."_

If he had not thrown in that final scathing comment, maybe she would've let this one slide, _but no, he just had too didn't he?_ She couldn't blame him though, not really, in this situation she wasn't allowed to be mad. If she did it was like telling him to not be hurt about his dad's murder. She had no right.

"This happens, okay?" She said curtly, hoping to smooth things over, but being historically inept at such attempts. _God I am such a hypocrite,_ she hated every word spewing out of her mouth, even if she was speaking reason; "It wasn't my idea, but this is what we've got, we have to work with him. We can't all be on the same moral high ground as you."

 _"I know, we don't have time to discuss the morality of it, as you_ _said_ ," he mocked. _"I understand, but I expected more from you,"_ he replied, dissatisfied. And that hurt even more, as though he were punching her in the gut. _"He's just another criminal you're letting get away,"_ he hissed. _"You said you lost faith in the system after Amy was killed, after Fisk, but maybe you're more apart of it than you'd like to admit."_

Her mouth dropped down so wide it could have hit the floor, _that was. Too. Far._ "Fine. Go sulk and fucking find the Punisher if that's what you want to do. Good to know what your opinion is of me," she said venomously, wanting to say many more spiteful things but seeing no use in that. "Good luck, you'll need it," she hung up without waiting for his reply.

 _I hope the Punishers shoots him._

 _..._

"'I expected more from you'", she taunted, and smacked the wall with her fist in her ire, "what an asshole." Every time she thought they were headed somewhere positive, something happens that puts a glaring light on the cracks on how delicate and tenuous their whole partnership actually was.

To think, only a few evenings ago he held her hands tight and promised to protect her, and now...?

 _I am a disappointment to him? What the fuck? Who does he think he is? To judge me?_

"If you're done with your tantrum now."

Alfie was a few paces from her, with his arms crossed. Riley flared and shook her head at him, ready to blow up at him too; "Alfie, I swear to God-"

"What?" He approached more confrontationally; "No 'hey how's it going Alf, haven't seen you since the Kitchen Irish wanted to assassinate me?'"

That brought her back down to earth.

She leaned her head on the wall and sighed, "I'm sorry I haven't been in touch."

"You don't need to be sorry," he said leaning next to her, "I went to check on Gale, she's okay, she's not conscious yet."

She closed her eyes against the memory that shook her; "It was a kid, Alfie, a kid."

"I know Fitz had to make a deal."

"Leo tell you?" She asked giving him a sidelong glance, he nodded. _We really don't need those kind of conspiracies circling around us._ "Great. That was supposed to be kept amongst us."

"You know I won't tell a soul. Waterhouse has always been the one that got away, hasn't he? He gets away once again I suppose. Leo is worried about you. We all are."

"It's just-" she stopped, she couldn't explain why she was angst-up, besides the case, Matt's douchiness (which she should be accustomed too by now to be honest), the deaths, there was another angle to this shitshow that was really doing her in. She looked at Alfie a little longer; he was right, she had not seen him since Sweeney first put the hit on her. Not like it mattered much now.

"Just-what?" He pressed, but she was still gathering her thoughts.

Why had she not seen him? Spoken to him? They worked in the same building, they were friends for a decade now, he was family. _It's because I've been with Matt, helping him._ She was neglecting her friends, the people who had been there for large chunks of her life and the mess and tragedy and happiness (though rare these days) that came along with it.

"I wasn't a good leader for the task force, not after what happened to Amy. Fitz is supposed to be better than I am, but he's colluding with-with this murderer. We're putting so many lives on the line on this guy's word, breaking the law and making deals. It's not what I wanted after Amy died. These are the kinds of lies that tear people apart, that broke us the first time."

The lies that got partner turning against partner, that had her friends-or people she thought were here friends-arrested for corruption.

If Fisk could get to them, who's to say Sweeney couldn't?

He bent his head to meet her gaze. "Sure we're going to fail each other and ourselves, our loved ones once in a while, but we have to forgive those broken promises and move on, as best we can. Because the rest of the world isn't going to wait for us when we're in a rut," he said, with a tired smile. "I understand it's hard, but that's why we have each other, why we have family. These people only want the best for this city," he pointed outwards to the bustling lobby, referring to the other policemen in the precinct, her team, everyone. "Fitz is looking out for you, he knows your brother's in trouble and you, he does care, and he's doing everything in his power to make this right, even if it's not conventional. It's a war out there. We're not perfect, never said we could be, and we need to have each other's backs," he suddenly held onto her shoulder, facing her, looking at her dead straight in the eyes; "No one is going to be there for you like we are. _No one."_

 _But I haven't had your back,_ she screamed on the inside. Riley merely nodded her head and gave him a small hug, grateful that he was still her friend, even if she didn't deserve it.

 _No one is going to be there for you like we are. No one._

Alfie left afterwards and Riley collected herself and the remains of her poise and dignity and went into the observation room to watch the rest of the interrogation with Detective Malek and Leo.

 _"Xavier. It has to be him,"_ echoed Waterhouse's voice over the speakers.

"Call him," Fitz placed a phone in front of him.

He pushed it away from him as if it might explode; "I told you I'm not involved with them-"

"Andrew. Please. We're running out of time," the sergeant snapped. "Think about Jeremy; Camilla was around his age, and more children are going to die if we don't find him," he reprimanded in a cold, sharp tone that made her glad he was directing his fury at someone else and not her. Before he placed the call, the sergeant fetched her.

"Your head screwed on right, Knight?" Asked the Sarge, straightforwardly.

"It is. Sorry for what happened."

"Good. Come outside. I have a plan."

...

Andrew called the Xavier and put him on loud speaker;

 _"They said you turned down the job,"_ said Xavier after several passive aggressive greetings were exchanged. He had a foreign accent, the source of which she couldn't place. Leo went to work trying to trace the call if possible.

"I've reconsidered. You're messy Xavier, dropping too many bodies. I don't like it," replied Andrew, with a chillier, more malicious tone than he'd used with them and with his son.

 _"I don't care if you don't, it's what the boss wants, to rattle their cage."_ They assumed, the cage belonged to the NYPD.

"I want a cut of the rewards," said Andrew; "I have the cop," he told him, going along with the plan the three of them concocted.

 _"How much do you want?"_

"One-third."

 _"Where do you have her?"_

"She's drugged up, I'll do the job and send you a picture for evidence."

Xavier scoffed in disdain; " _You think I trust a single word coming out of your mouth? You rat, whoring yourself out to the police all those years you were in the cell. We used to respect you in the community, Waterhouse. And you lost it."_

He swallowed, she could see his hands quiver ever so slightly as their eyes were plastered on him and his minuscule reactions to Xavier's taunts. _Will it wound his pride? Will he betray us?_

"Are you done? Because every second you waste with your platitudes, the drugs wear off on her," hissed Andrew, ever in character.

 _"Does this mean you're back in the game?"_

Andrew hesitated, he kept his gaze on the wall, "yes it does," he lied (at least she hoped so.) _He's admitting it outright that he was a hitman in the past, and here we are listening to the confession and doing nothing about it._ Matt did have every right to be pissed, _even though he_ _hit me with every insult he could think of._

There was a pause over the line before Xavier said; _"we_ _meet in person. Bring the detective with you."_

Andrew glanced up at her with uncertainty at this turn of events. Her heart skipped a beat. She felt a curtain fall over her eyes. She knew what this meant. They all did, the sergeant, Malek, Leo, Croftsky.

The decision felt as simple as waking up. A flip of some internal switch.

She could sense Fitz on her right, moments from intervening-

Riley looked him dead the eyes and nodded yes;

"Deal," he told him. Details of meeting point were exchanged. Andrew hung up. The air weighed a tonne, yet Riley felt as though she were floating.

Fitzgerald inhaled sharply, taken aback by her split second decision, he faced her, "team meeting. _Now."_

...

They barely made it to the conference room when her colleagues started to bicker; "Are you fucking joking?" Malek burst out first, uncrossing her arms in disbelief. "We are not doing this!"

"C'mon," Leo berated loudly, "Sergeant don't listen to Knight she's not making any sense!"

"You're going to use her as bait?" Croftsky chimed in.

"You even let him choose the time and place, we have no chance to do surveillance on the area now, a thorough background check-" Malek started listing down all the flaws in the plan.

"Fitz we can't let her-"

"Enough!" She yelled over them. They finally shut up, but begrudgingly. Fitz was a mask of perseverance as he patiently waited for them to stop arguing like children.

"You're in a such a rush to get killed these days, aren't you?" Remarked Croftsky.

"I cannot sanction an operation like that," said Fitz, finally throwing in his opinion. "It's too dangerous."

"Then you don't have too," Riley replied, steadfastly, her heartbeat was thrumming in her ears, on her neck, she could feel it emanate from her pulse points, but her head was clear and calm. She was determined. "No investigation will be open. It just has to stop, doesn't it? We all want to go home and feel safe, I want my brother to be safe. I don't want anymore people to die."

Croftsky looked at her as if she were crazy, and likely she was to some extent; "No, I can't agree to this, if something were to happen to you, there would be no—"

"You're not the one agreeing to it," she countered.

"You'd be in the car with a hitman."

"He's a retired hitman."

"That changes nothing."

She threw her hands down onto the table to get them to listen to her; "I know the risks; I know this will only happen if it's off books. All of you do." She glanced around at them. "Why are we even discussing it? We're at the end of a line here," she slapped the whiteboard with the maps and images of the victims to prove her point; "Next could be another teenage girl, or someone else's mother or father, it will never end." Riley rounded on Fitzgerald, she spoke earnestly, knowing he would listen to her; "I was out of line earlier today, I don't know where my head was." _Where my loyalties are supposed to be._

"I know why I became a cop, and what it means to be one. I'm going. I've made my decision Fitz."

He breathed out, crow's feet at the corners of his eyes deepening concern, but then he gave her a small nod, and the plan was underway.

...

Sleep would be impossible that night. Riley aimlessly walked to the center of her living room, put down folders on the coffee table and lied down on her couch staring at the ceiling. The room was dark except for the light from the street, tall shadows crept and arched across the walls, looming over her.

 _I should call Tommy,_ she thought, perhaps much too late to consider his say in the matter. Truthfully she had not thought of her own life at all when the decision came.

 _If I die?_ _Who would take care of him?_ _Sure, he has mum, but that would be the same as being alone._ She couldn't back out of her word now, tell the team and Fitz that she changed her mind.

And as gut-wrenching as it was… Riley did not want to back out. She took a good, long, hard look at her life and knew that this was what she had to be willing to do at some point in her career, albeit a short one, it just so happened that—

A loud, persistent knock on her window shook her from her end-of-days reverie.

The sound didn't startle Riley, she doubted much could surprise her these days anymore.

Serenely, she turned her head to the window, and like clock work, Matt was there on the fire escape. He knocked again, more dogged, and she just stared at him absentmindedly. Riley already predicted what the next few minutes were going to be like when she let him in. He was the world's nosiest man, he already knew what happened during the day.

Laboriously, she got up and opened the window.

He rushed in, wasting no time to get to the purpose of his visit; "I overheard your plan. What the hell are you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?" He admonished hotly, in one breath, he pulled his mask off.

"Do you know who died today?" She demanded. "Do you know how many people have died already? Or were you too preoccupied chasing the Punisher?"

His features twisted sorrowfully, he pressed hips lips together; "of course I know," he quietly replied.

"Are you here to tell me I've let you down even more?" Riley asked, still sour over their last phone call.

He made a pained expression; "I'm sorry about that I said."

"We've said a lot of terrible things to each other, but that was completely uncalled for," she said, glaring at him; "You don't get to judge me for what I have to do."

"I'm sorry. I was angry and confused, Waterhouse dug up stuff from my past I wasn't ready to deal with and I needed a distraction," he was ashamed to admit it. "I blamed you when it wasn't your fault. I was an asshole, I know I was."

"I'm glad you've come to that realisation," she scoffed; "but you can go back to hunting for the Punisher, because we have this handled."

For all his apologies, that started him off and it was his turn to reprimand her; "In what world, does walking into your death trap, mean you have this handled?" He asked her, coming closer. "You're right, this was my priority. I'm here now, we can formulate a more viable plan that isn't as reckless as this."

"This is the plan," she argued steadfastly. "What kind of cop would I be, if I'm not willing to put myself in danger for the people? I know exactly what I signed up for the day they pinned that badge on me."

"Not this kind of necessary danger," he countered, raising his voice. "Not with someone like Waterhouse whom you can't trust. You can't trust anyone!"

"What do you suggest I do?" She huffed, crossing her arms.

"Let me find this Xavier man and bring him in for you."

"Okay," she said slowly like she was speaking with a gradeschooler, "enlighten me then; where do we start? We don't know who's going to die next; we've combed over the evidence ten times; we're running around like headless chickens at this point."

"The crime scenes, he must have left something behind."

"Then wouldn't you have found something by now? Wouldn't we have found something?"

He let out a frustrated sigh; "I went there before I came here, I can go back again and-"

"You're _wasting_ your time," she interrupted. "I trust your senses, Matt. But you're not a bloodhound you can't track his scent. Unless, I'm wrong and you can?" She put forth the question to him.

His shoulders went down in reluctant agreement; "no, my senses don't work that way."

"Exactly," she wagged a finger at him. "You weren't in any of the places where the victims were until after the police arrived. You have the exact same information as us. He's left nothing behind, he's just as much of a ghost as you are. We have to use me as bait and capture him."

"Bide your time Riley," he said, his hands cupped out in front of him as he was begging her, "we can find something, you're walking completely unarmed into enemy territory. You're trusting Waterhouse with your life! _Him!_ " He bit out, grinding his teeth; "He killed my father and sells out the people he is supposed to be loyal too. You can't trust a man like that!"

"I know you hate him, I would too. I'm sorry he's the one who's helping us," said Riley, despite what as dickhead he was, it still bothered her, the fact that working with Waterhouse was hard on Matt. She felt his pain, but there was nothing that could be done; "And yes, he's not trustworthy, you're right, but I trust that he loves his son; that's why he even agreed to any of this. He's the only reason we even know about Xavier's existence."

"It doesn't change anything!"

"I don't know what else to say," she shrugged, exasperated, "I have to do this; I have to take the risk. He will stop if he has me."

"You don't know that for sure! These people are liars. We knew he would be after you, on behalf of Sweeney for a personal vendetta. And this is exactly what he wants. To make it seem as if you've run out of options and now you're forced to give yourself up, you're playing right into his hands."

"I am not hiding behind a shield of civilians, when what he wants is me," she retorted in adamant refusal, her tone full of conviction; "We're losing, Murdock. We have to do something."

He squashed his lips together, frustrated, holding his forehead with one hand, "I can't believe Fitz agreed to this," he said, shaking his head in vehement disapproval, "you have to tell him—"

"It was his idea to pretend that I was a hostage," Riley protested. "We're doing it like this. I'm not going to let anyone else die. This has never been just about me, I thought it was, but it isn't." It wasn't as though a man like Roscoe and his family never made enemies in their lives; she was a minor blip in the history of the Kitchen Irish, a blip that could make a difference if she wanted it too.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready." Riley turned and walked away from him towards her room with the intention to end the discussion right then and there.

Obviously that wasn't how he wanted it to end; he grabbed her shoulder and circled to face her; "Riley, be practical about this, please," she could hear the plea, but she had to push it away, push him away.

She snatched his wrist. "I've made my mind up," she threw his hand off, "and if you get in my way I will make you regret it," she finished with a fiery glare, hoping he would back off.

For someone with super human hearing abilities, he still did not listen to a word she said as he walked around her and annoyingly stood in her path once more, blocking her.

"Matt—!"

"Let me go with you," he suddenly offered, bringing her to a standstill. "I'll meet you halfway, Sweeney's wants Daredevil too right? I'll offer myself up to Xavier in your place. I'll tell them to take me instead."

Normal people would have been flattered, would have appreciated his sacrifice. But Riley flared at him; "What?! Do you know how _stupid_ that is? You come along with me and _you_ get shot?" Riley was so mad she wanted to shake him, slap him, maybe both. "I wouldn't be able to save you with the entire task force not far from us. You think Xavier is going to keep the mask on you to save your identity if he harms you? You think my sergeant or any of my team members will? I won't be able to stop them when they take it off. What will happen to you? Or me? What would they do if they found out?"

He wasn't listening to any of it; "With me there we could blindside him, lure him into a trap."

"Haven't you been paying attention? That's what I'm doing!" She shouted, passed caring if the neighbours could hear their quarrel. "Fact of the matter is; it's a bigger risk for you. Your identity could be compromised."

And there it was, the unchangeable, concrete difference between them they could never be rid of.

"That's no different from what I do on a daily basis," he disputed sensibly, his lawyer side coming to play. "So how is it a bigger risk? We'd be in the exact same predicament; at least you wouldn't be _alone_."

"I don't need you to be danger too!" She snapped. That was the essence of it, truth be told. Riley couldn't afford for that to happen; for the sake of her career, and because she did not want anything awful to happen to Matt Murdock, despite how insufferable he could be.

"That's a bullshit excuse to be a hero for nothing—"

"'A hero?' Are you serious? What's your excuse, then?" How dare he play the 'hero' card on her.

That gave him a humble pause, at this stage they were in each other's faces. He was looking down at her; Matt retreated a step. "No, I don't have one," he replied slowly, his jaw ticking as he simmered down. "However, you'll listen to this; you have family, Riley. _Family."_

It was the magic word, she let out a humorless chuckle, rolled her eyes and looked away from him, feigning nonchalance. Except he knew exactly what to say to prod her doubts; "Alfonso, Tommy, Gale…you're going to let her wake up and hear that you're dead?"

"I know what I signed up for."

"But you don't know what you're losing," he said, pleading, that was the moment she felt it. The real doubt creeping in. "You don't have to do it. You won't defeat Sweeney if you're dead. Everything we've tried to accomplish, the people we've lost, all the suffering, would have been for nothing, if you die."

Everything he said was true, but there was no changing her decision. Nothing was going to convince her otherwise. She could be walking into her death sentence, but she was NYPD detective, it was _work_.

"I have the team not too far away, a small handgun on my leg, we're ready," she told him, more for her own reassurance than his. "I will control the situation. You have to trust me," she said, firmly, "I thought that was what we were trying to do here with us," she gestured between them. She meant to wound him like he wounded her, but that only served to make her more hurt, seeing how crushed he looked.

"It is. I do trust you."

He seemed surprised to admit it. But no one was more surprised than Riley. Her throat was raw from the shouting. She could hear her own breaths, they were deep and short, and he probably noticed her heart rate quicken too. Riley stared up at his face, eyes falling over his green eyes, the whites with the tiny circles of light, down to his lips. She got lost for a second, and forgot what they were arguing about in the first place.

"But I don't trust Waterhouse to keep his word," he ended.

Riley let out another breath; she shook her head, _no_ , she hated discussing feelings and trust and whatnot. Yet also, inside she knew if she latched onto what he said then she would ride on it with him and totally change her mind.

She couldn't let that happen.

"I am _not_ going to let anyone else die," she said, with a hardness to her that contrasted greatly to his openness. She leaned over her coffee table, fisted the folder of pictures of dead and punched them into Matt's chest so forcefully he nearly lost his balance.

"Isn't this enough of a reason?" She shoved past him, "I'm going. It's done."

Realizing he had failed, he tried again, more crossly, to make her reconsider; "Riley—"

"Matt," she rounded on him, with such force and resolve that it stunned him into silence. She swallowed, her heart hammering in her ears; "I trust you too," she said, her cheeks heated up but she kept her focus, "and I know you keep your promises. Promise me that you'll stay out of it. This is something I have to do, like how you being Daredevil is something you have to be. So let me be. Please. I won't ask twice."

He wasn't happy, but with his shoulders falling dejectedly, he finally relented, "I promise."

* * *

 **A/N: Another long convo between our heroes that I just had to do! Review, fav/follow, let me know what you think! Again the chapter was too long so I cut it down.**

 **Question: are you guys liking the tension between are heroes so far? Is the slow burn too slow? What would you like to see? I know everyone is excited for the Punisher and Riley to meet, I am too!**

 **Thanks. See ya :)**


	28. Chapter 28

**Apologies for any mistakes, I'm sleepy! I honestly think my writing is sub par compared to some stories on this site! I'm by no means an expert at this, legit the last time I wrote a creative essay was 6 years ago in high school lol, I do try my best! So thank you for all your kind reviews, I have missed you! This is extra long to make up for the absence. Enjoy the latest update xx**

* * *

 _Riley_

The hours flew by and then it was a few hours till the crack of the dawn the next day. The time Xavier chose to meet was when the rest of the city would be silent and asleep. The team readied to roll out on what could be her last mission ever.

"We'll be behind you, a mile out. These have been shaved down so they'll break easily with one tug." Leo put the cuffs on her.

"You got some balls Knight, I'll give you that," said Croftsky, handing her the keys to the car Waterhouse would drive to the meeting point. "Don't die," he told her matter-of-factly, which was the extent of how civil they could be with each other.

"Thanks Croftsky," she smirked, somehow finding it in her to be flippant about the whole mission, "not dying is number one on my to do list."

After a few more good lucks and downhearted goodbyes they were ready to go. "Why did I agree to this?" Waterhouse asked himself rhetorically as he started the car engine.

"Don't why you did either," Riley replied, and snorted; "don't know why I did, but here we are. Atoning for our sins."

"What sins do you have to atone for, Detective?"

"Plenty you don't need to know about, Andrew."

They drove out of the garage and onto the street, " _keep your distance we don't want to raise any suspicion,"_ said Fitz' voice into her comm piece. He was talking to Leo and Malek following behind them.

Riley was level-headed and calm for the first half hour as they drove towards the outskirts of town, occasionally giving Waterhouse directions and confirming with Fitz that they were in the clear from any tails.

"We're almost there," announced Andrew when they got to a traffic light and waiting for the lights to change.

"Call him," she instructed.

"I'll be there in 5 minutes."

 _"I sent you something,"_ blared Xavier's voice into the car over loud speaker, Riley's stomach fell at the sinister note in his voice. _If there was ever a time for the mission to go sideways, it would be right about-_

Waterhouse's phone pinged and he opened the file Xavier sent, she peeked at it but knew what was going on immediately;

In a small clip, Xavier had Jeremy Waterhouse tied up in a chair, gagged, right eye swollen shut and blood running down the side of his head.

She swallowed the pit in her throat, she couldn't form words, she was a fool to have thought this was going to go her way, even with all their planning.

 _"Knight, what did he send you?"_ Fitz asked.

"Fuck," she rasped into the comm device, "Xavier has his kid."

"Jeremy!" Andrew gasped, his breathing altered, it was high and whistling, _not good, not good at all._ She watched him closely, she could see his mind moving like clockwork. The traffic light went from red to green. Riley turned to him, she was a proud woman but she was prepared to blather and plead and beg for him not to betray them;

"Just wait—"

Waterhouse pointed the gun at her forehead.

A chill ran down her spine. She had knives aimed at her and guns in the past but it was always unnerving when it was this close in such a confined space. Fitz was shouting into her ear but her only focus was on the gun in her face. She quickly put her hands up to surrender, "Andrew...please, you need to think this through."

"Shut up!" He hissed, he may been have been shaken to his core a second ago but right now there was nothing but steely resolve in his eyes, the gun was steady and his other hand was deftly placed on the steering wheel. This was what he was good at. "Ditch the comm device. Now. I know what this means."

She was both the hostage and the negotiator in this situation; "you have to cooperate with us. If you go through with this and you trade me for your kid what do you think will happen to you?"

"My son will be safe, that's what will happen!" The cold lip of the gun pressed on her forehead and she shrunk in her seat, "now tell the others to fall back and ditch the comm device!"

Cars were honking behind them as their vehicle failed to move, she licked her lips, he would not kill her now, he needed her alive. It was better that she was in one piece or not knocked out when they came to the hostage exchange. They had to save Jeremy too somehow. "Malek, Leo fall back," she complied to that at and she threw the device out the window. Her sole connection to the rest of the team.

"Andrew...we can wait for the rest of the team, we'll figure out something-"

"There's no time to waste!" He put the gear into drive and took a turn that was off the route they were initially heading in, "he's texted a new meeting point and time, that's where we're going."

She faced the front watching slowly- almost as if she weren't here at all but observing like a bystander-as she was driven to her fate.

* * *

 _Matt_

There was no way in hell he was not going to go through with a back up plan without the Detective's knowlegde. He opened the window to Gardner's safe house and startled the man when he was leaving the bathroom. "Remember me?"

Gardner yelped and made a run for it but Matt was faster he pinned him to the wall. "You-you threw me out that window," he squealed, terrified. Not enjoying the prospect of being tossed out again and going into another coma.

"I should have done more," he pressed his elbow in deeper, baring his teeth, "I was going easy on you."

"What do you want? To throw me out there again?" He stuttered.

"The cops got information out of you, but not enough."

"Why the fuck are you interested in cop business?" He complained.

"They're after Sweeney, like I am. But they're useless at their jobs, when I know I could do more."

"D-Damn straight they're useless. That cop, Detective Knight, she's a lying bitch, she told me she would get me out of here."

At the mention of her name he unpinned him from the wall and smashed him onto the floor, twisting his arm until he squealed. "They had to get you to talk, so it makes sense. I bet it sucks to feel this much fear, to constantly be in danger, must be what the people you exploited felt like." He twisted harder until the squeal became a scream, he could easily tear the arm out of the socket, but he would save that for later; "They could only ask you to tell them the truth, but I can make you."

* * *

 _Riley_

She had no idea where the others were. In fact, she was regretting telling Matt to stay the hell away from her for this mission. She still had a small handgun on her leg, the weight of which was comforting, but when was the right time to use it? She wished she had _more_ time to figure out a way out of this that would not end her life or Jeremy's. They arrived at an abandoned car manufacturing warehouse. Andrew parked outside of it, the aim of his gun never left her as he walked around and open the passenger side door.

He reached in and yanked her collar at the nape of her neck, dragging her bodily from the car. "You're making a huge mistake," she barked at him.

"Jesus do you never stop talking?" He curled his hand around her shoulder and forced her to her knees like the prisoner she was. "We'll wait here for him."

She looked up at him; "You don't have to do this. Fitz is looking for us as we speak, it's not going to end well for you or your son in the long run."

"You don't know what I'd give up to see him unharmed," he replied, unwaveringly. There was a stretched out silence between them. She glanced out at the horizon, as the first hints of dawn lightened the dark sky. _The last sunrise I will ever see? Will I even make it to then?_ She was eerily calm for a moment, as if her life was some big joke when in actual fact she was about to be executed, which led to her question;

"How does Xavier kill his targets? Is it all the same, one shot to the back of the head?"

His face twisted morosely; "He's not gonna kill you. He'll hand you over to Sweeney."

 _That is. Much. Worse._ "Fabulous, I've been eager to finally meet him. He's been terrorising the city for a couple of months now. Of course you know what that must have been like, when the Kitchen Irish mattered in this city," Riley said, trying not to think if Roscoe would be as psychotic as his brother Rob.

 _Rob was going to mutilate Matt in front of me_. She stared up at Waterhouse, studying him, she could tell he noticed her stare as he avoided her gaze.

"September 27th 1995. Remember that night?" She asked, out of pure curiosity.

He scoffed, disbelieving; "You expect me to remember some random date you—"

"You killed someone that day, didn't you?

He looked down at her, annoyed, she was a few more sentences away from getting the butt of the gun on her skull; "why are you asking me this? What does this have to do with my kid?"

"C'mon I don't have a wire or comm device," she reminded him, staring back with razor sharp acuity, "I just want to know."

She could decide later if she were to tell Matt.

"September 1995 huh?" He thought for a moment, "yeah I did go after someone," he replied, monotonously.

"Jack Murdock?" She goaded.

"Yeah, it was him," he nodded, grimly watching the perimeter, keeping his gun pointed at her as he did, holding onto her like she was some ragdoll. "Roscoe wanted him dead. So is that why you flipped your shit on me back at the precinct? Because of Jack Murdock?"

Riley never answered, just glared daggers at him as he went on.

"I was talented, in a different and unconventional way, and I'm not ashamed of it. It was easy money back then."

"Easy money, huh?" She scoffed; "Jack was nobody; he wasn't in the mob, he was just a second rate ring fighter who was always getting his ass handed to him. Sure he lost Sweeney some money but—he didn't deserve to die," she said. "You shot him in the alley behind his home like he was a dog. He had a son; a bright kid, who was orphaned," she said scathingly. Remembering Matt somehow made falter and she stopped.

"I'm not that person anymore," he replied, the hand on the gun tensing.

She eyed it cautiously and then looked at his face once more; "I know you're not. You're trying not to be. You have a son too," she said steadily. "What would he say if he saw what you were doing? If he knew what you were?"

"You asked me to do this," he hissed. "I was the dumbshit who agreed to it. This is your fault—"

"You were trying to do something good—"

"And look what happened! Look what I've gotten myself into! I've already lost my life; I won't let his end for my mistakes," he roughed up her collar again, keeping a hold of her so she wouldn't try anything. "I know Fitzgerald will keep his word. His life is all that matters, his survival, I'd do anything to make sure he stays alive."

It was time to act now. Riley tugged on the chains to break them and she was free, he didn't realise until she leaned her head back and bit the hand that wielded the gun. "AH!" He screamed, dropping the weapon.

She leapt to her feet and made a break for it, but he managed to grab her leg and she tripped over. She fell face first into the ground, a rock broke her fall and it was a though someone took a hammer to her skull. Her ears were ringing, Riley groaned and rolled over, in time for Andrew to get up, she reared her leg and kicked him in the stomach, giving her the advantage to straighten herself once more and run to hide. A shot fired behind her and she ducked in time into the warehouse.

...

Riley sprinted to a set of stairs, kicking up decades of dust behind her, not knowing if Andrew was following or not. Once in the stair well, she bent and retrieved the handgun from her leg. Xavier would be here any second now for the exchange. She picked up a plank from the ground and placed it across the door to prevent anyone come coming in that way. She needed to get to higher ground.

Bounding up the stairs she tried a door on the first floor, it was locked. She continued upwards, the air was stuffy and choked with dust. Running out of breath as usual, she reached the next landing and the door was locked again. _Fuck._ Drenched in sweat she sprinted up again—

Riley shrieked when a black figure appeared in front of her out of thin air, instinctively she aimed and shot. The bullet went into the concrete wall behind them. It was only when she saw the tinge of red the pale light gave on the horns did she realise it was Matt's Daredevil costume.

"What the fuck! What are you doing here?" She shoved him, her heart hammering in her ears, still in the midst of a heart attack. "I almost killed you!"

"I'm saving you!" He snapped at her, she knew it was only because she was reacting adversely to his aid.

"You promised not to be here," she pointed out, which was idiotic of her to say in hindsight because what difference did it make if he was here or not?

"I'm glad I am," he countered stubbornly. "Did you really think I was going to leave you for the wolves like that? C'mon, I wouldn't do that to you, even if you told me to fuck off." She was leaning on her knees to catch her breath and she glanced up at him. His words were actually damnably sweet. But if he was choosing right now to have a moment it wasn't the right time. "You're so annoying," she sniffed, the only lame thing she managed to respond with.

"I also heard over the comms that Waterhouse backstabbed you."

She coughed and wiped her forehead with the forearm that held her gun. "Son of a bitch did. Xavier has his kid. Where is Andrew?"

"He chased you for a bit but Xavier's pulled into the compound," he told her, "we have less than two minutes though, and they'll probably fan out to find you." She didn't realise that his hand was on her arm and he was hoisting her up to straighten herself from her bent over form. She hoped he didn't take note of how badly she was gasping for air.

 _He's here. F_ _uck there's no time to think of a backup plan, and I still haven't reached a sniper position to at least take them out if I have too._

"I had to get away, but it doesn't matter—I have to give myself up. I don't have a choice, I can't let that kid die, Matt," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I can't."

Matt bent his head to make her gaze land on him; "You do have a choice," he said, and Riley wasn't sure if she heard him correctly, but he went on to explain; "I questioned Gardner further. I know more now, I made him call the precinct and speak to Detective Croftsky. I also gave them your location so they should be on their way too."

She blinked at him, caught off guard, she never asked for any of this; "You—you did what?"

In pale blue light she saw him crack a small smile. "I didn't know what the outcome of this crazy plan of yours was going to be, I had to get leverage for you in case something like this happened. Like I said, I wasn't going to leave you behind," he said softly. He reached for her cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The tender gesture may have also robbed whatever breathe she regained, but she chose to believe it was the running that was still doing that.

Matt cocked his head in the direction of the stairs she came up from. "We should get back to the ground, we can subdue them."

"Hold on, you made him? What does that mean?" She asked as they ran down three steps at a time, Matt was leaping from banister to banister like cat. Riley was still in a daze that she may not die today after all. And she felt a hundred times calmer now that he was here with her.

He titled his chin over his shoulder at her; "I don't have to spell it out for you." She knew what it meant, _probably already did this whole time._ She would try to stomach the fact that he tortured Gardner for her sake after this was over.

When they got to the ground floor she barred closed she flattened her back on side of the door prepared for an ambush, he did the same as he listened for the whereabouts of the two hitmen. "Sweeney kills snitches, I knew it would cost Gardner a lot to help us, I told him that he would be safe—if word gets out that this happened, that he spilled what he knew to—"

"It doesn't matter now," Matt cut her off as he finished listening, "Jeremy's still alive, he's in the trunk of the car. We need a plan and fast."

...

After they agreed on a plan, Riley hid behind the giant steel doors to the warehouse, ready. The two cars were outside on the other side.

"Let me see my son!" Andrew called to Xavier.

She heard Xavier snap open the trunk. She heard dragging sounds as he hauled Jeremy out and dropped him onto the ground, there was no noise coming from the kid which was very concerning; "here he is. Tough kid, he did put up a fight. Now where is she? Or did you double cross me?"

"She ran away."

"That doesn't sound like good news for you Waterhouse," Xavier replied.

She emerged from her hiding spot, gun out. "I think we've had enough!" She had her weapon aimed at Xavier first, she had to believe Andrew would spare her even though he probably wanted her dead now too.

Both hitmen directed their guns at her. "There she is," a wolfish grin appeared on Xavier's mouth. "Coming along with me are you, detective?"

"Not at all, step away from his son," she commanded.

As he opened his mouth to respond, Matt sailed through the air and landed on the hood of Xavier's car, he tackled him to the ground. The distraction allowed Riley to shoot at Andrew, she purposefully missed to get him scared. She lunged to him and tackled him too. Riley straddled his back as he struggled to get her off of him but she had the stronger hold.

She bent down to whisper in his ear; "you didn't think you'd actually get away with this did you?"

"He's never going to stop," spat Andrew, his cheek smothered on the ground. She wasn't certain if he was referring to Xavier or Sweeney. It didn't matter. She handcuffed him, "Shut up," she snapped and read his rights. "Do not move. I'm going to check on Jeremy."

Just before she did she glanced to see Matt after he knocked Xavier out. They heard sirens wailing. The sky was starting to turn pink as dawn broke behind the clouds. Riley leaned on the front of the car, the adrenaline rush coming down. He stood, his head was tilted to Waterhouse on the ground as he listened to him. Andrew's head wasn't turned to Matt so he wouldn't notice Daredevil's inexplicable reaction to his presence.

Matt had a dark, twisted, feral look on, like he could chew Andrew up and spit him out again, and perhaps do more than that. End him, if he chose to cross the line. And she knew he wanted too, despite the fact that Fitz and the others were almost here. He didn't care anymore. He was back lit by the bright front lights of the car, she could see his back hunched slightly, the deep, ragged breaths he was taking as he controlled the urge to tear Waterhouse to pieces. She got to her feet, the hairs on her arm prickly with fear at what he might do.

"Go," she told him, abnormally quiet, "get out of here."

His head turned to her, remembering she was there, wordlessly he bounded off into the warehouse before the team could arrive and catch him too.

...

She reached Jeremy at the same time Detective Malek did from the squad car. He shivered violently when he woke, fearing Xavier was there to greet him with more punches and kicks. He started to cough blood. "Jeremy, you're okay, we're the police, an ambulance is on it's way," Malek said lifting the the kid's head into her lap. "Slow breaths, slow breaths."

Riley stood and spun back to Fitz who was standing over Andrew.

"We have to take you in Andrew. I'm sorry," said the sergeant, lifting him to this feet.

"I did it for my son," he replied, with no regrets, an officer led him away. An ambulance arrived for Jeremy and for her as well. It was blur of red and blue lights and uniforms. A paramedic was putting a plaster on her hairline where the rock from earlier had scraped her. She did not even notice the wash of blood down her cheek until he started to dab at it. Fitz approached her while she was being tended too, he looked...happy, proud even, far from the stern demeanour he normally gave off.

"This assignment was off the books, Knight. You saved them, all those people on Sweeney's list. No one knows the sacrifice you made, this city will never know, you won't ever get medals or commemoration for what you did. But we will know, we will remember," he reached to her for a handshake, which she accepted.

"Thank you sir," she said with humble gratitude. It felt absurd to smile then. But she did. Perhaps she wasn't as insane as she thought she was for offering to do this, or inept at her job as she thought she was. Some risks had been worth it.

As that happened Xavier regained consciousness, and they were booking him. Just as the officer was putting him into the car she excused herself from Fitz and the medic and ran over.

"Hey Mahoney, give me a moment with him."

Brett gave her a look of uncertainty as to why she needed to speak with him, but then shrugged and let her pass, "alright Knight, but make it quick."

"He was so close," said Xavier, glaring at her with black beady eyes, referring to Sweeney. Nothing he was going to say would bring her down from the high she was on. She had saved dozens of people from his bullets and he was going to put away for life. The hitman was younger than Waterhouse, slim, moderately built, jet black hair, with a scar running down the side of his face from temple to jaw line.

She rested her arm on the car door and leaned to him, eyes narrowed to slits; "you tell whatever shady lawyer they get for you, that we know who's in his inner circle. I want him to know that we'll find all his lieutenants, and the rest of his family. We'll get all of them. And him. Sooner or later," she said, menacingly.

"A debt still has to be paid," he replied icily.

"I'm not going to be the one to pay it," she growled under her breath.

He smiled maliciously, with teeth like a shark, "You may have gotten Rob and you may think you have the upper hand. But he'll get you first when you least expect it. He plays a longer game, detective. Just you wait."

That struck a chord with her, and the way he said Rob's name was as if he knew him personally. _Psyhopaths can be friends, right?_ Whatever misgivings she had, she didn't let it show, "enjoy prison," she said, having the last word. And slammed the car door shut on him.

 _Hopefully that's the last I see of him._

...

Late at night the same day, everything felt like a lifetime ago. She had gone home, showered, slept a bit, finished up some paperwork at the precinct, and went to the hospital to visit Gale who was currently in her own room at Metro General. She was a fellow nurse, so she was getting well-deserved special treatment by her colleagues.

As she got to the room she saw a familiar frame standing by Gale's bedside. She jumped into the air in excitement to her baby brother. He turned his shoulder to greet her just as she crashed into him, scooping him into a bear hug. "Holy shit, I'd never thought I'd be happy to see you."

"Why would you think that? Everyone's always pleased to see me, I'm a ray of sunshine," he said awkwardly patting her back, she could even deal with his terrible, arrogant snipes, she would rather listen to that than not have him around at all. "Okay you're kind of choking me now Riles," he said stiffly.

She laughed, letting him go so he could breathe. _My brother is back, I have him back._ She was smiling ear to ear. They both turned to Gale, resting, totally unaware that they were there. She had a ventilator and a bandage around her neck where the bullet had lodged itself but was successfully removed. Tommy held huge batch of beautiful blush pink peonies in one arm, Gale's favourite. Riley had no idea when she would wake up, but prayed she would.

"I never thought I'd be here visiting her for a change," he finally said after a long, contemplative moment. "It was always me in that bed. After shooting up, getting into trouble, yet she never judged me for it."

"She's one of the good ones," she squeezed his shoulder. "How's mum?" She asked, as he set the flowers down on the side table.

"She's getting married."

"Married?!" She burst out, she was not expecting that bomb. "What moron got down on one knee and asked to marry her?

"Patrick Dayne," he snickered, folding his arm. "I met the guy, he's too damn wholesome for our mom." He sighed melancholically, "she'll wreck him."

"Patrick doesn't know what he's getting himself into." They briefly discussed the details of their new step dad and the wedding which Riley was sure as hell not planning on going too. She would wait for her mother to personally invite her, if she wasn't bitter over endangering their family.

Even if she nearly died to save Tommy by sacrificing her life to a hitman, she didn't tell him, to spare him the anxiety. He seemed to be a better mood than usual today. As they spoke he checked his phone. "Are you going home?" She asked.

"Nah, I'm going to visit Heather, the girl from NA. I haven't seen her in a while on account of being sequestered at mom's place, while you dealt with Irish mafia."

Of course she should have known he would be off to see his girlfriend when he was allowed back into town again. They were siblings, and they were family that would always be there for each other. But they weren't best friends. Being in the system, stuck in foster care, she had missed out on chunks of his childhood growing up, the parts where you're supposed to really get to know and become a part of your siblings' life. It did fill her with nostalgia every once in a while but she didn't mind so much as she got older.

"I think she wants me to move in with her," he said, dropping another bomb.

"What? Are you serious?" _When did he grow up so fast?_

"I am. I really like her. She doesn't care about who I was before." She knew how important it was to him that he buried his past and made sure it stayed that way. It seemed a lot like Riley was stuck having to deal with hers while her little brother moved on with his life.

"You don't want to live with me anymore? Your big sis?" She teased, even though she didn't mind having her place back to herself.

"You always leave the kitchen in such a mess in the morning," said Tommy making a pouty mildly disgusted face.

That was only because she was always working and rushing to get to the station in the morning. She smacked his shoulder, "excuse me! I come back and clean it!"

He wasn't done with his list of her offences; "And you're always talking to yourself in your room. It's weird as fuck."

Her breath caught, _I was talking to Matt,_ she had no idea Tommy could hear her. "I like to think cases through out loud," she fibbed.

He shook his head, "you were always like that when we were younger. Just talking to yourself."

"Overactive imagination, alright? Look at you, growing up," she tried to pinch his cheek but he swatted her hand away, she laughed, "question is; are you sure you want to live her? It's a big deal. I mostly feel bad for her for having to pick up after you.

"Hey I'm ready for a fresh start," he said defensively. "It'll be a soft move at first. Taking things one step at a time, of course." His phone started to ring and he smiled down at it, that head-over- the- heels kind of smile. She wanted to puke but also felt a just a bit jealous that he found someone.

"I better head out," he said. They hugged and her little brother-all grown up-walked out the door.

Once he left she spoke to the doctor. He informed her Gale's recovery would take a few more weeks, but she could still wake up any day now, and it was miracle she even pulled through the surgery despite how much blood she lost. She told him she had gripped her neck to stop her from losing blood too fast, and that may have been a factor in it. She was still tripped up in guilt over what happened that led to her friend being in that bed, but less so than before.

Nevertheless, despite the good news, her brother returning, she was still not a 100% Unfinished business remained. But more than anything, Riley merely needed a break, less than 12 hours ago she was staring down at the barrels of guns directed at her. She'd need just a day or so to breathe and process things, to stop beating herself up and get on with life.

She had almost died today, and willingly. She needed to deal with what that meant.

As she left the surgeon's office, she saw Alfie appearing out from the Gale's room, also dropping off another batch of peonies. They hugged and spoke for a bit, he told her about how much his wife Maggie missed having her over, and how Alyssa was rehearsing for her school play. It was nice to hear about them, and she knew she was being rude, but she really just wanted to be alone for the rest of the evening.

"We're going for drinks, do you want to join us?" Asked Alfie.

"I'll see how I feel," she told him as they left the hospital together.

She had every intention to go home, take a bath, listen some music, sleep some more. But instead—

She found herself at Matt's door.

It was getting late. Riley reconsidered her brave notion to be there at this time of night with no pressing threats to be dealt with. The last time she was here it had seemed like a permanent end to their alliance. Now, so much has changed within a short span of time. By then it was too late to turn and scurry off home, he knew she was there, because her fist had not even touched the door when he opened it.

* * *

 _Matt_

He had not slept the entire night or rested the entire day after that. The exhaustion helped him to forget how much he wanted to hurt Waterhouse when he was lying on the ground in front of him earlier. Matt was barely keeping himself upright then, but the moment he caught her scent as she exited her car he did feel so tired anymore. In addition to not sleeping, he agreed to go to Josie's with Foggy and Karen after turning them down a dozen times the past month. He had a few drinks in him, he was only a bit buzzed though, thankfully.

"Hey," he greeted leaning on the doorframe. He'd just taken off his tie. He intended to sort out some last minute paper work for court tomorrow and eat dinner when he got back. But having the detective here felt much more appealing than any of that.

She bit her lip, leaning back, probably having noticed how tired he looked; "crap, I'm sorry, it's late—"

"It's alright, come in," he held the door open wider; "I just got back myself." She walked in past him. He scratched the back of his head, they spoke all the time, but this time felt very unfamiliar, he couldn't place why; "So, what's the status report? How's Gale?"

"She's making a full recovery," she said, lingering in the hallway. "As for Sweeney; we've got an eye on things, we know who's in his inner circle. They're in hiding, but they can't hide forever. We wouldn't have gotten anywhere if you didn't get to Gardner in time. So thanks for that."

He realised why it was awkward; she wasn't sure of the etiquette, whether she should walk into his living room first or she should follow him. Because in actual fact she had never come here unless one of them was injured or unconscious.

"You're welcome," he said, ushering her to come further inside his place.

"We finally have something over him."

"Well, we wouldn't have gotten Xavier, if you didn't go," said Matt, "you stopped him from ever killing again."

"Yeah, he's locked up. No bail."

"Good," he said, feeling triumphant over it. Even though it was really all her doing that even got them close enough to capture him.

"Do you need some ice?" He asked, he pointed at his own cheek to show where the bruise on hers would mirror it. She had fallen on a rock or something that cut her, just above her left temple.

She touched the slight swelling where the blood had collected beneath the skin, "yeah, that'd be nice."

They went to the kitchen area while he opened his fridge.

"I still feel like an idiot to let you go through with that plan."

"If Xavier was successful at least you'd be rid of me," she joked morbidly.

"True," he agreed, going along with the joke. She smacked his arm when he grinned.

"I have to say; what you did was brave," he said taking out a rack of ice cubes.

She rolled her eyes, waving him off; "oh please we don't have to—"

"Hear me out," he interrupted, as he laid a cheesecloth onto the counter. "It was stupid," he continued.

At the turn of the compliment into an insult, she glared at him.

"—But brave." He finished, wrapping the cubes up in the cloth.

"And no one will ever know," she added cynically, leaning onto the counter.

She was wrong about that; "I will." He knew she could be stand-offish and sarcastic, she would never let anyone tear her down whether they were big or small.

But she had a kind heart, kinder than she let on. He wanted to tell her that, but held back.

"You're such a big softie, you know that?" She teased with a smirk.

"I can't help it," he shrugged, grinning. "Being a softie makes me an easy person to confide in, people don't realise that. It why I'm good at my job," he stepped to her until he was a foot away and handed her the cloth; she carefully pressed the cold, damp cloth to the bruise on her cheek, hissed softly as it stung. The ice helped to soothe the inflammation.

"Ugh get over yourself Murdock."

He smiled cheekily, it had always been easy to do that around her before she found out his secret, and he knew she liked it when he did. Matt retreated slightly, he said; "I'm glad you're safe."

"Me too," she agreed, "I really thought I was a goner."

"But honestly, what you did. It was amazing," he said earnestly. Her cheeks heated up and she chewed her lip, it was very endearing to him, when it sure as hell should not be. But at the same moment she got a text.

Suddenly he felt very boxed out of her life, he shouldn't, because it was none of his business who she was getting messages from at this time of night. And they weren't exactly friends who hung out beyond this Daredevil partnership. Going against his better judgement, and due to the alcohol in his system, he gave in to temptation and asked her; "who's that?"

"Alfie, they're going for drinks," she said returning her phone to her pocket.

"You have to go?"

She hesitated. "Um. I don't want too, is it weird that I'm not in a celebratory mood?"

He shook his head; "It's not. You've been through a lot in the past 72 hours. But part of things getting back to normal is being with your friends. Well that's what Foggy always says to me anyway."

She laughed and then pursed her lips as she considered what her plans would be tonight; "mmhm spend the night in or listen to Detective Leo belt ABBA on the jukebox and watch all the guys flock to Malek?"

"Yeah but you haven't arrived yet," it was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

She raised both her eyebrows at him, she smiled faintly, he couldn't tell if that was for his benefit to spare him the embarrassment. She was examining him in that way she did, careful and calculating, like she could see right through him. Sometimes, with the way she figured out things and studied people, it as though she had the heightened senses and not him.

"Are you patrolling tonight?" She asked, completely off topic.

 _God I want to die._ "I feel like taking a night off," he said, and that was true.

"Duh," she chuckled; "You're not going to go out there inebriated."

He laughed with his breath; "You can tell?"

"Yeah, no shit, I'm not the blind one here," she said, smiling wider; "You look a bit more flushed than usual."

"Foggy convinced me to go for drinks at Josie's with him and Karen, he would have made the whole evening a bar crawl if it let him, but I was too tired for that, to his great displeasure."

"Josie's?" She echoed, skeptically. "Are you sure they don't have like, salmonella in their food?"

He pointed at himself, "ahem, I would know if there is was anything off about their food."

"True, you would, you weirdo."

He smiled again and leaned forward, resting his hand over hers where the icepack was. Again, he couldn't help himself. He heard how her heart rate increased whenever he touched her, how her gaze moved from his lidded eyes to his mouth. In the beginning it was because they were wary of each other, because at any moment, even during their truces they could attack one another, but he definitely could say that wasn't the case now. It was unnerving to be stuck in this in-between, and he was slapping himself trying not to analyse it too meticulously.

"I think the swelling has gone down," he told her. "A little big longer," he placed her hand back.

Neither of them said a word. She shifted her weight and bit her lip, in a way that maddened him when she did as he knew she was repressing the truth about something.

"What's up?"

She gulped; "I spoke to Waterhouse."

 _That fucking name again._ And then he was glad he was mildly inebriated or else he would be taking this way worse; "What did he have to say?"

"I asked about whether he killed your dad."

His ribs clenched with a vice grip around his heart; "Did he?" He demanded a bit too harshly. But she didn't need to answer for him to know what she was going to say. He could hear it, feel it in how she shuddered and how her throat was stuck.

"I'm sure you know by now," she said instead, reading his mind.

He sighed heavily, backed away from her and leaned on his fridge, crossing his arms; "What's going to happen to him?"

"They took him away but they have no credible reason to hold him. In the eyes of law we never spoke to him, we never asked him to do that mission. His life goes back to normal."

"So he walks," he concluded for her, feeling the unbidden anger rising up.

"I'm sorry," she said, they were back at this argument again, he could feel the tension in his shoulders, how defensive she became. "I know how much it sucks. I told you about him and the mission was my idea, now he's off the hook again, just like that. I talked to Fitz about it, but there's nothing to keep him locked up—"

"I'm not surprised," he shrugged offhandedly; "Fitzgerald made friends with criminals, he _let's_ them off the hook."

It was entirely his fault for starting this, despite how reasonable she was trying to be, it was different to have this conversation face to face compared to over the phone when he was trying to distract himself with hunting the Punisher. This was much more difficult.

She frowned setting the ice pack down on the counter; "I understand you're disappointed, you deserve to be mad. I don't know what else to do. I'm sorry."

He sighed, massaging his temple with his fingers; "it's fine."

She looked to the rafters, shaking her head, knowing again, that it was not 'fine' as he so simply put it. "Forget it." She huffed and wiped her wet hand on a dry cloth by the sink; "I should go. Thank you for the ice."

He was about to let her walk past him but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep without resolving this, he reached out, grabbed her arm to stop her;

"Riley—hold on," she stopped and faced him; "I'm angry, I'm sorry. I don't want to argue with you. I don't want to leave things like that."

She snickered with wry smile; "We do it a lot, if you haven't noticed already; fight and reconcile and then fight some more."

He returned that smile; "It gets kind of boring, don't you think?"

"It does, but we're both stubborn and we think everyone else is wrong and we're the only one who's right," she shrugged, that was very true. "It makes it hard to work with you, but nonetheless, I couldn't have done this without you."

"I guess that makes us good partners even though we drive each other crazy?"

"Maybe," she nodded and held his shoulder; "I know you hate him, you have every right too. And it does piss me off that I can't do anything about it. And I keep thinking that I may have-" she paused, "let you down, somehow," she finished. "Made it seem like Waterhouse was less of an enemy in order catch someone worse, when he's not like that to you. It's not fair."

"No," he said vehemently. "After what you did, for all those people, I shouldn't even think like that. And you didn't let anyone down, certainly not me," he reached to the shoulder she held and laid his hand over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze, running his thumb over her knuckles.

"It's not as simple as I make it out to be in my head. You're right." They both let go. He had gotten more time to think about his actions, thinking about what Father Lathom would have said to him if he had gone to the church. "Whatever I feel towards Waterhouse it gets less and less every time I think about, I feel that in my heart. It doesn't matter who pulled the trigger that got my dad. It matters who ordered it."

"It doesn't? Really?" She asked, taken aback. "I wouldn't think like that. I don't think I could forgive someone like that."

He shook his head; "I don't forgive him, I don't know if I ever will. But when you told me who he was, I imagined he'd be living in the seedy underbelly of New York. He doesn't. He has a son," said Matt, he remembered listening for Jeremy's young heartbeat behind him as he contemplated confronting Waterhouse, Riley had been watching him closely, almost fearful of what his next action would be. He was relieved to hear that the boy was still alive despite his many injuries.

"Yes, I wanted to interrogate him, strike fear into him, like what he did to me when I found my dad dead on the ground. But I couldn't beat him up. I'd become him. His son would find him, what would he think of his father he idolised? I couldn't put the kid through what I had to go through." And then came the hardest part, the part where he had to let go of this grudge against the precinct, Fitzgerald, against Riley, and Waterhouse; "I know Andrew is free, but maybe it's better this way, so his son isn't alone."

He felt lighter all of a sudden when he was honest with her. "I'm glad you asked him for me, I'm glad you told me, it makes things easier, believe it or not."

Riley's features softened, and the corner of her mouth turned upwards. She pulled him into a hug, she stood lightly on her tip toes to wrap her arms around him. A cloud of her scent filling his nose, she smelt like clean water and cotton. Her hair was short, just brushing her shoulders as she pressed against his neck. He felt her heartbeat push up on his chest.

"You're too good Murdock," she whispered to him.

"I'm not," he replied, still hugging.

"You are. More than I ever could be."

He was about to strongly argue with her against that point when her phone rang, startling both of them out of the other's arms. She forget for a second which pocket it was in, after another ring she pulled out her phone. "Hello?" She answered, the moment completely vanished. Her back was turned away from him thankfully as he took in a lungful of air. He tuned out the conversation to give her privacy.

"It's the hospital," she said when she got off the phone and looked at Matt. "Gale's awake, I didn't think she would even-" she was grinning at her phone, texting to someone else about the good news.

"You should go," he said, the words coming out too high to his ears. He didn't really want her to go just yet, but her mind was elsewhere.

"Yeah," she said, distracted, elated by the news, "I'll talk to you soon then." She waved goodbye and in a few strides was out of his apartment. Matt thanked God she left, he didn't want her to see how he cupped his hands and groaned into them.

* * *

 **God damn that was a long one, but honestly let me know if you guys would rather I split these up into smaller chapters if it's too much to read. I totally understand. Also, OMG I really thought it was time to get Matt's POV on his feels when Riley is around. Anyway, please review! Happy holidays :)**


	29. Chapter 29

* * *

_Riley_

These days when Matt tapped on her window she didn't jump. She turned the power on her stove down. Riley was in the midst of actually making dinner from scratch and not microwaveable pasta tonight. "You're cooking," he remarked pleasantly, climbing into her living room and taking off his mask. He sniffed the air, "I think it could use a bit more pepper."

She wanted to call him out for being weird, but then again, what was new?

"Yes, dinner for one," she replied, gesturing to the kitchen behind her with a swoop, "Feel free to judge."

"I'm not, I swear," he chuckled, lifting his arms to surrender as he followed her over. She tasted the soup and nodded in agreement at the suggestion for more pepper.

"Is Tommy coming home soon?"

"Nope he moved out today to live with his new girlfriend." Hence the reason she was cooking dinner. She could take her sweet time and not be concerned whether he liked what she made or not. Besides that, now that life seemed to feel a little less like she might die every other second, she could slow down things, put on pyjama's, and enjoy mind-consuming activities such as a perfecting a sweet potato soup recipe. Alfie's wife Maggie had gifted her a recipe book a few years ago- which she did not open until tonight since she lived on take-out. But it was full of vegetarian and vegan recipes, that seemed to be all the rage with the kids Tommy's age, so she thought why not try something new?

Riley wasn't sure how long this would last, but she'd try her damnedest to savour every mundane moment.

"Wow. Kid's growing up," said Matt leaning on the counter nearest the stove. "I thought he would move away from New York like you asked."

"I know, and I wanted him too. But when I found out he was going to move in with Heather, I was so happy. I can't just make him leave because of my own fears." Her only thought was to protect him, to go to the extreme and force him to move cross country to be safe. Who was she to rip him from his new found happiness? People always advised her to let him be an adult, stop coddling him, this was a start to that. She could no longer dictate where he went and what he should do with his life.

"He belongs right here. Hopefully the court will work out in our favour." _And he won't end up in prison, where he's an easy target to bend my arm._ Truth be told, her confidence that they would win the case grew exponentially when she started to trust Matt more and more. Both in and out of his Daredevil suit. He was a great lawyer and yes, they will win this.

"Are you ready for it?" Matt asked.

The Godfarsaken trial on her brother was finally coming around. But even that wasn't going to ruin the good mood she was in. "Yeah. It's been a long time coming," she sighed. "Although without it we wouldn't have become friends."

He raised a brow and stroked his chin; "I'm still trying to decide whether that's a good thing or not."

She smacked his arm; "Last time I ever say something nice to you," she said to his amusement. Although she knew he was going to respond with something snarky because she always teased him whenever he got overly emotional. "I just want it to go smoothly and I can go back to being stressed about other things and not whether my brother is going to wind up in jail."

"It'll be okay," he assured her, she looked at him then and the confidence he had greatly helped strengthen hers. "Anyway, you didn't ask me here to discuss that. What's on your mind?"

"I'm just trying to figure out something," she told him and asked him over to the dining table. "The Italians have the monopoly on prostitution. They must have killed Daria because she was trying to frame clients, they knew about it."

"They did," he agreed seating himself into one of the chairs. "It mattered to them that these men paying for her service were not found," he said following her train of thought.

Riley leaned on a chair nearest him; "they have no reason to protect their clients, some hooker is at the bottom of the ladder, what she does in her spare time is frankly none of their concern, unless—"

Matt leaned forward catching onto her idea; "These clients have influence. They're important people."

She snapped her fingers, "Exactly."

"Sweeney's taken it upon himself to become the head of this," she started to pace in front of him, "So we go after him, all of his lieutenants. We make a dent in their organisation from the top down."

"From what I've heard, the Dogs of Hell, the Italians and the Kitchen Irish are definitely allied, the others are still hesitant but they could change their mind at the rate the Punisher is going."

She spun to him; "any kind of alliance is unstable. That's good for us."

"True. But we have to keep in mind that when we get Sweeney, it will crash again, they'll be more blood and chaos on the streets. Not just what the Punisher is putting down."

After Fisk, people's homes and private businesses were targeted because of their association with one group or the other. It wasn't pretty for anyone living in those neighborhoods.

"If Sweeney is gone, someone would have to take his place," determined Riley.

"Who do you think would try to take over?"

"Not too sure."

"It's not the Dogs of Hell."

"My thoughts as well."

"Do you have an idea of the territory of the other groups?" He asked.

"I do." She took out a map of Hell's Kitchen from her briefcase and spread it out onto the table, Riley hesitated, because how was he going to see the map? He stood and sidled next to her; "Just guide me through it."

"This is where the Chinese supposedly have a gambling den, but they're more scattered than the others." She looked down at the map, their hands were besides each other, she held his wrist and gently nudged it a few inches to the right. "56th and Lane is for the Italians and it's them until you get down to here by the docks." She rested her index to where 56th and Lane was on the map, his hand moved to where she was, and his fingers bumped against hers.

"They leave heads for people to find. They're not exactly subtle," he said in a low voice.

"They're traditional and extremely violent," she said. "The Italians could take over. But I also think the Chinese are a pressing threat too, even if their heroin manufacturing halted. They sprung back up into a different venture so easily. They're always doing that," she said, shaking her head, baffled by it. "Like they have nine lives."

"Yeah," he nodded vaguely, she caught onto that.

"Did you confront them before?"

"I did," he only moved his hand away from hers then, was he being cagey about his association with them or was she being overly suspicious as usual? "Found out they were using illegal immigrants to make the drugs."

The night a warehouse blew up. "That was you, of course, no surprise there," she grinned. But his mind wasn't present. Before she could ask more questions he changed the subject.

"I know we're going off track but I was thinking; I think it might be a good idea to show you some fighting moves."

She blinked twice at him waiting for the, 'just kidding.' Matt was always very serious but right now he was being dead serious.

"Excuse me?" An appalled laugh burst forth from her lips. "You _must_ be joking."

"Please hear me out," he held his hand out to her, patiently asking her to cease her laughter; "I know you're struggling a little bit. After a sprint it's hard to catch your breath, your arms hurts. Right?"

 _Of course he noticed._ Her laughter ceased and it was her turn to get defensive and tight-lipped; "Well yeah. I was just on my road to full recovery from getting shot, and then I got stabbed in the gut." Riley was reminded of Rob Sweeney, even if he was dead, she would never forgive the asshole for unwinding months of progress.

"I know," said Matt. "But it's all in your head."

She was confused as to what he meant and then she was offended by what he insinuated, "'It's all in my head'" she repeated unimpressed with her fingers doing apostrophes. "Are you saying the reason I'm like this is because I'm crazy?"

"I'm not. You're doing the same things that exacerbate the pain, maybe try something new to alleviate it, work around it, at least get you back into fighting shape faster. You haven't had a chance to do that because you keep unintentionally getting injured."

That…did make more sense, but what he was proposing was too bizarre for her taste; "I'm not a ninja, Matt," she retorted; "I have enough combat knowledge I need to do my job."

"Just give it a chance, learn something new. One hour this week, to get you started and fighting again and then from there you decide. What harm could that do?" He offered, shrugging.

"Um a lot," she deadpanned, "considering I don't know how to do a back flip in mid air, like you."

"I wasn't thinking of teaching that to you, but I could if you wanted."

She stared at him blankly; "Now, you're really joking."

"One hour," he repeated. Riley wanted to make fun of him some more, but he was being completely serious. "You need to commit to proper training again if you're going to get better. Fitzgerald will see your improvement and commend you for it."

She narrowed her eyes at him; "How do you know I haven't just been holding back on kicking your ass?"

He snorted, with a poor crack at smothering his own laughter; "Is that really a question?"

 _So annoying._ She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Maybe it would do her good to train properly, she had been reluctant to ask Alfie for help over it as he would have immediately recommended a doctor. "Fine," she relented, folding her arms.

"So you'll let me teach you?" He asked optimistically, and she was already regretting her decision. Riley thought she might as well have fun with it; "Since you're being so insistent in getting me all hot and sweaty then maybe I should indulge in your offer and see how it works out."

He looked taken aback; "That's not what I—" he stopped, and rolled his eyes catching onto how she was making fun of him.

"I'm kidding," she said and then laughed again, sometimes he was too easy.

Nevertheless, there was a smirk playing on his lips he couldn't hide from her.

* * *

Riley warmed up for Matt's crash course in martial arts with a 20 minute run, which pretty much knocked the wind out of her when she got to Fogwell's. He was already there filling up his water bottle when she walked in setting her gym bag down; "Ugh, and I thought the gym at the precinct was bad."

"Hey this place is a little rough around the edges, but it's got grit," he defended strongly. He wrapped white bands around his hands which he told her she had to do too. It was only when they approached the ring that she started to voice her misgivings over this whole idea;

"I know this is meant to help me. But I don't want to hurt you Matt," she said; "I mean, it's you," Riley pointed her bandaged fist at him.

"Testament of how far we've come; when you _don't_ want to punch me," he said with a light-hearted chuckle, and hoisted himself onto the mat. "Don't worry about it, and even if you did hit me, I can take it." He leaned on the ropes waiting for her to join him in there; "Pretend it's the first time you met me in my Daredevil suit."

 _That anger won't be hard to channel through once more,_ she thought and got up into the ring with him. They stood a couple of feet opposite each other, and he got into a fighting stance. That threw her off instantaneously and she began to get cold feet. Suddenly she felt as though she'd never gone to the police academy or put away hundreds of crooks.

When had she ever been able to fight off Matt? The answer was: _Never._

"Come at me with everything you got," he instructed her, getting right into it.

"What no run through of the lesson?" She asked. "Breakdown of your fighting technique? Backflip 101?"

"Later," he turned his neck to crack it; "When I learnt how to fight, the basis of my training was that kid who couldn't swim and his dad threw him into the water. You learn when you assimilate yourself into it."

 _Two completely different scenarios and circumstances Matt._ "Who taught you how to fight?" She asked, genuinely interested now that he brought it up but also to buy herself time to build the stomach to take a swing at Matt and possibly fall and bruise herself a millisecond afterwards. He'd convinced her to come here today and willingly get beat up by him, _you're a genius Riley._

"Don't stall," he said, knowing exactly what she was trying to do; "Come on," he took a step closer to her.

"Oh I'm stalling?" She wondered, when in turn he was avoiding her question about his training. Who taught him what he knew? She had speculated before but hadn't thought about it since.

"Don't go cop on me," he warned, and then smirked devilishly; "Come on, don't be afraid to get your nails dirty, Princess."

That earned him a glare from Riley. _He's asking for it._ She swallowed, and took a step closer, _no more stalling._

Roughly four beatdowns later, or maybe more but she wasn't keen on keeping that score; Riley was gasping for air as they circled one another in the ring. "Matt," she rasped, "I think I'm done," she was doubled over, clutching onto the center of her chest. Her heart was beating like a jack hammer. He'd tripped her, tackled her, she'd even been as clumsy as to trip on her own feet and land on her ass herself. There were definitely going to be bruises in the morning. He did not hesitate to swing at the injured parts of her either, which exacerbated the pain. He was really going hard.

"Just a little longer, the hour isn't up yet, we already took a break," he encouraged, still very much light on his feet, bouncing to and fro on the mat. He was sweating a reasonable amount while she probably lost a gallon of water. "You're at that spot where you want to stop, you need that extra push."

She just shook her head in pathetic silence, she didn't have the energy to even raise her head to glance up at him properly. _I can't do it. I can't do it. Not now not ever._

He bent on his knees in front of her to get down to the level of her head; "This whole time you've been thinking that you're too weak, not good enough. But you can do it. Remember what I said, shift your weight to the right side away from the injuries," he walked around behind her, grabbed both her shoulders and hauled her upright, "and don't slouch." He kept his hands there to straighten her a bit more. "Keep your core as a column when you move." He pushed on her spine to keep her hips in line with her shoulders.

"Matt. I can't do it," she whined, shaking her head insistently, breathing more laboured; "I need more time."

"There's only now, Riley," he spun her so that they were facing each other.

"No," she panted. "No more."

He retreated to where he was before, speaking as he did, what he said nearly floored her again; "If you could've run faster, could've fought harder, maybe every time you've had to fight someone off, you wouldn't have gotten hurt, maybe I wouldn't have."

Her breath caught in her throat, shocked by the audacity of his casual comment. A switched clicked in her brain, the sweat that was in her vision seemed to clear away; "Hold on. _What?_ Are you serious?" She glowered at him; "How dare you!"

"You are fast," he went on ceaselessly, yet calm as still water, and they circled one another on the ring. "I know it because of how fast you ran the first time you pursued me," said Matt. "You're sinking into your head when you fight and tire yourself out too quickly."

"You think it's my fault you got shot in the leg?" Riley hurled back, feeling her face get even more hot from the rage; "Did I ask Rob to stab me?" "

"It could've have gone differently," he shrugged, untroubled by her snarls, and narrowed his sightless gaze to her in a inquisitive frown, as he dared her to swing at him; "That's what goes on in your head isn't it?"

Riley raised her fists; "You son of a bitch."

He stopped the first two jabs she aimed his way and manoeuvred away from her. He wasn't using any of his ninja skills, this was a pure fist fight.

And she intended to win it.

She pushed herself to focus past the pain and fall into the rhythm of things. She buckled a knee with her foot and then elbowed him.

He overreached and it was her opening to thrust a flat-heel palm smack into his nose, he staggered backwards. He caught her fist again. Riley remembered how inexplicably strong she was when she found out his secret, when she slammed him into walls and threw chairs at him. She could re-embody that moment again. She dropped her shoulder, ground her feet, and pivoted flinging him up and over her;

He crashed into the ropes with a look of surprise. He blocked another hit from her as she charged, she brought her other arm to protect her chest. She was breathing heavily through the adrenaline. A wicked smile formed on his lips;

"There she is."

"Are you sure your reverse psychology worked?" She hissed at him; "Cuz, now I'm just mad at you." He pushed forward throwing her off, but Riley back kicked him across the face, which he was not expecting. Frankly she didn't think she still had the flexibility to do that either. Then she went low to swipe his legs from beneath him. As she rose, Matt latched onto her arm in the process and they both went down. She landed on top of him, straddling him. One hand on his chest the other a fist in the air. Quickly, Riley held him down by the arms on either side of his head before he could make a move.

She bent down, their faces a few inches apart and triumphantly whispered;

"I win this round."

She didn't know if he let her win or if she was actually starting to get over this physical rut she was in. Her head was pounding, blood was thin and fast. He was still smiling, despite being pinned down by her, his green eyes alight and youthful, full of laughter. It was so unlike his usual reserved manner. It was infuriating yet insanely attractive.

"I'm glad you did," he panted.

"So stop smiling like an idiot."

"Make me."

His bottom lip had caught in his teeth when she hit him, and there was a smear of blood on it. _I could lean down and kiss his mouth and taste it there._ She watched his throat as he swallowed, his tongue darted out to lick his lips, he made no attempt to move her off him. They both seemed to be holding their breaths in fragile anticipation.

The stiffness in his arms melted away, but she didn't relieve her grip, Riley held him down harder, her fingers curling over his biceps. Then her mind fled to the taunts he'd used to enrage her. Now that she was simmered down, the doubts started to march in, she was tentative to question him at first, but he was vulnerable and still beneath her.

"Did you mean what you said?"

His face fell, the smirk wiped off, and then went serious; "Of course not."

She ruined the charged moment herself to be honest. _It's probably for the best,_ she'd always been physically attracted to him It was his personality that was unbearable to start with but he'd grown on her. She rolled off him onto her back.

She couldn't say whether she liked him or it was just because she'd been single for so long she forgot what male attention felt like, how to flirt and to read signals. Riley was certain he'd been flirting with her when he was slightly tipsy the other night but that was any confident guy on drink, it rolls of their tongue without them even noticing. _I've had to deal with plenty of that in the past_. _Besides, to get involved like this is another level of crazy that I do not intend to reach._ She did care about him however as far as friends go, just as he cared about her.

Riley told herself she would be content with that.

What she definitely required was a cold shower after this.

"It's sucks. Cuz you're right. That is exactly what my thought process is," she said sighing, feeling good to admit it. She peered at him lying down beside her; "It's like you're in my head."

Matt sat up on one hand; "I've been where you are before," he said. "Meditation helps a lot, clears your head." He stood and offered a hand to help her up.

She snorted and shook her head; "One new hobby at a time, Murdock."

* * *

"Toms. Don't fidget on the stand, they're vultures, they'll notice," Riley said to her brother as she fixed his tie outside the courtroom. Even if she had friends who were lawyers she hated the majority of them as much as the next cop, they could sniff out anxiety and nerves from a mile away sometimes.

"I'm nervous," he said making a face of discomfort. He ran his hand over his tummy, "ugh I think I want to puke, would that be too unprofessional?"

"I think it might give the wrong impression."

"Heather's here too. I just—I know she's being supportive coming along, but I don't want her opinion of me to change."

"If she asked you to move in with her, she knows you, she trusts you," said Riley, holding onto his shoulder; "You're going to kill it in there, I believe in you."

"I'm going to go to the bathroom to calm down," he said and she let him go.

She heard the clack of heels behind her, something told her exactly who walked in. She instantly brought her guard up as she turned around to meet the newcomer. Her mother stood before her, in black kitten heels, periwinkle suit and a fox-like smile; "Riley."

"Mom." She gave her mother a light peck on the cheek. "I heard you were getting married," she said as they pulled away after the brief, cursory hug.

"Yes I am, honey," she replied with a big smile and flashed her engagement ring at Riley. "Patrick has been so amazing and supportive through these past few months during our family's hardship, I can't wait for you to meet him," she gushed.

"Congrats," she said, half-heartedly.

"Once this nightmare against Tommy is over I can properly start planning the wedding. You'll be there, won't you?"

 _Tommy's her favourite, doesn't even bother to ask how I am._ She stuck up a curious brow at her mother's invitation to the wedding. She didn't actually believe she would invite her because of how much they fought at family functions. Riley would just ruin her big day; "Really? You want me to be there?"

"Of course, Riles—" her brother re-emerged into the hall and her mother completely forgot she was there. "Tommy!" She called for him, jogging over to give him and enveloping him in a loving hug, after having failed to give Riley that same amount of affection. _Must have slipped her mind,_ she thought cynically, _or rather she's still blaming me for all of this._

"Are you okay?" A hand lightly brushed her elbow and she looked over her shoulder to see a concerned Matt Murdock, with Foggy trailing behind him.

"No," she admitted, but very pleased to see him. Her entire body relaxed. "But I will be."

"Your mom give you a hard time?" Asked Foggy.

"You've met the woman," she immediately replied, but then her mother had not made any accusations just now, Riley was so accustomed to getting hit with those whenever they spoke that it was natural she would speak against her. "But no, she is holding back for today. Family unity and whatnot. She has upcoming nuptials too which she expects me to attend for the sake of upholding her saint-like image to her new husband."

"I'm sure it won't be so terrible to go a wedding. They're fun. Even if this one's your mother's," said Foggy, positively.

"Yes her third wedding, I wonder if this time will be different from the rest," Riley replied unenthusiastically. "It's very unappealing. And I'll be the only single person in my family there _and_ sober. So yay for all the extended family who are wondering when I will ever settle down."

She stopped talking when she realised Matt probably didn't know what dealing with annoying relatives felt like. He didn't appear phased by it but she went on to discuss her nerves over the trial. And then before she knew it, the plaintiff announced that they would be commencing soon.

It was going well until it came time to cross-examine her. She was on the stand, no different from the other time's she was there when she was a detective, presenting evidence for the prosecution. It was rare she was ever here as the defense, however.

 _But there's a first time for everything._

"Ms. Knight, do you firmly believe that your brother is on the track to redemption?" Asked the prosecuting attorney, Mr. Kiel.

"I do. He has been living with me for the past few months since his accident, attending NA meetings, which I personally drive him too. I say he's turned over a new leaf," she responded confidently with a shared smile to her brother.

But Mr. Kiel had a few lethal prongs to poke their defence with as he retrieved a folder from his desk; "One of many attempts to turn over a new leaf actually," he opened the folder, giving it a swift read over a document he obviously already memorised. "His records state that he has been in and out of rehab five times. Hospitalised 10 times in the state of New York for drug related accidents. Were you the person who admitted him to these rehabilitation facilities?"

"I was," she said, gripping her hands beneath the banister where no one could see, to keep her cool.

"And all the other times were unsuccessful, why is that?"

"Addiction is difficult to overcome, ask any recovering addict, and you'll know," she replied, fixing a cold stare on him.

"What makes you believe he is going to change his ways now?"

He was playing the hopeless-addict card on her. She'd seen plenty of people go to jail when the prosecution used this angle. "I just know," she replied with conviction.

Mr. Kiel handed the folder to the judge to have a look at; "And do you consider yourself to be the exemplary role model for your brother?" He asked. "When you too were a juvenile delinquent? With records sealed by the state?"

From the corner of her eye she saw the jury start to throw sidelong glances at one another. Her mother was restless in her seat. Tommy was biting his nails. She tried to keep herself in the game and not be shaken by what Mr Kiel said.

 _He's just another lawyer. I've talked them down before._

"What does that have to do with anything?" She inquired, not carelessly or in any way trying to dismiss his question, but with firmness. _We will not lose._ _We can't._ _And certainly not because of me._

Murdock leapt to his feet, hands flattened on the table, "objection your honor, Mr. Kiel is no longer stating facts he is blatantly attacking my clients—"

"I _am_ laying down important facts that you glossed over Mr. Murdock," Kiel shouted over him. The Jury started to mumble.

The judge knocked his gavel to settle the people down, "Quiet. Sustained."

 _Not good. Not good._ She would have to endure Kiel for a little longer until he finished his little show; "The city made you a cop, responsible for everyone else's lives but it goes to show that you were very irresponsible when it came to yours. Who's word does the jury believe?" He held up another file in his hand; "A cop with a secret criminal record or that of a drug addict with multiple failed attempts at rehabilitation?"

Nelson stood this time; "Your honour, the prosecution is clearly attacking my clients out of context with unrelated evidence!"

"Mr. Nelson is correct counsellor, I think we've had enough," announced the judge slamming the gavel.

Mr Kiel have her a sly look and waved empty hands through the air; "All good. I'm done."

During the recess, the nerves she had at the beginning of the trial returned but at full force multiplied by 100. _Where did they find my records? Have they become unsealed? This is bad. Really bad._ Foggy was beside her trying to talk to her but she wasn't listening to him.

As she shook her fingers to unleashed pent up energy, she saw Murdock wearing a hard look walking over to her with purpose from the courtroom. "Riley-"

Everyone's attention was taken by Tommy who stormed out, he went straight to Nelson, more out of courtesy of Matt's blindness than any real selective hatred towards Nelson; "What the hell is going on? Huh?" He demanded hotly, getting into Foggy's face. "Why are they going after my sister?"

"Whoa! There is no need to get hostile here, Thomas."

"I'm being crucified out there," she stabbed a finger at her chest, "and I'm not even on trial."

"Riley, why didn't you tell me any of that, what was in your file," Matt told her off. It was a hypocritical stance for him to take considering the secret he'd kept from her. But this wasn't the time to dig that up.

She crossed her arms over her chest; "This is about my brother not me."

"They were always going to bring in family matters to the case; you had to tell us everything. What else is there? They sealed something about you. You should have told us to prepare us."

She wanted to argue and tell him to keep his nose the hell out of it. With a frustrated sigh, Tommy started to tell them, "look, it was our stepdad—"

This was absolutely not the day she wanted to rehash the past like this. It was phase she had buried deep inside of her to never be touched ever again. She plastered a hand over her brother's chest; "Tommy. Don't," she urged him with a vicious warning look and he piped down. "We don't need to revisit it, not here, not ever. It's between us. Okay?" She looked at Murdock sharply; "Matt, you just go in there and redirect the conversation. Please."

Matt bit his lip, he was holding back on a retort and thankfully chose not to pry further, as she would never have opened up to him about it even if he tried too. The two lawyers went to discuss strategy instead for the remainder of the short break.

"First names now, huh?" Tommy rebuked when they were alone. "Odd how you guys got really close even though he was hardly ever at the office."

"Will you calm down?" She scolded, _I'll ignore what he said about Matt and I. "_ They're on our side, remember? Don't storm at them like that they're just trying to do their jobs."

"I'm sorry," he sighed through gritted teeth, "I'm just agitated."

"I know. I was not expecting the prosecution to bring up those files. But we need to get through this with our heads screwed on okay?" He nodded and they hugged quickly, he excused himself to have a quick word with Heather.

Riley was going to freshen up in the bathroom after being roasted by Mr Kiel when a hand snatched her forearm. Sharp nails dug into her skin. "Ow!" Riley craned her head and came face to face with her mother once more;

"What the hell is going on? Who—who told them about your stepdad?"

"No one did," she shook her mother and her acrylic nails off her arm. "I'm sorry it disturbed all your fond memories of him," she said, full of spite, "I wonder if Patrick knows about him. I bet you weren't ever going to tell him. Were you?"

Just like the version of her mom who use to throw things at her and scream at her, the woman flared with anger. And if they weren't in a public space may have smacked her over the head too; "How dare you say that, using that tone on me?"

"You use it on me!" She retorted in a shouted whisper.

"We cannot afford for this to drag our family name through the dirt," she said. "We have been through enough. Tommy is tired of dealing with this case, and so am I."

"We have it handled mom," Riley hissed, and shot her a frigid look; "I've been cross-examined in courts like this since I was a kid, remember?"

At a turn of events, Matt and Foggy were able to direct the conversation to discuss the foster care system. How it ripped the siblings apart brought them together, only to rip them apart again. Perhaps they should be asking a different question here, and how we're failing to raise America's children. She couldn't have said it any better herself. Yet even towards the end, it still felt like it wasn't enough for the jury, since it wasn't the angle they had prepared for during the following weeks.

She noticed Matt tilting his head in that specific manner he did, he looked concerned.

"Is he listening to them?" She whispered to Nelson next to her.

"He shouldn't, but he can't help it," said Foggy disapprovingly. He had probably gone through Matt doing that many times in the past. And only realised how often he'd done it when his secret was revealed.

"This case is quite important to him," he said and then quirked a brow at her; "I wonder why."

She frowned at him but didn't read into his words, even during these dire times when her brother's freedom was on the line he could be annoying, ragging her about her relationship with Matt.

Matt listening to the jury kind of felt like cheating. But if it was going to save her brother, than she was going to have to allow it and be okay with it too.

"Hey, is everything ok? I can tell what you're doing," she asked him during the second and last recess before the jury voted. "I'm up for it if it'll help of course."

"I just wanted to make sure, one or two people didn't sound too calm."

"I mean. It's court. It sucks. Why do you think I'm not a lawyer?"

"I'm sorry I pushed you about your record, and your step dad," he said out of nowhere. "I shouldn't have done that, you have every right to your privacy."

She breathed out unsteadily, "It's okay, you were doing your job. Maybe one day after this is over, I'll tell you."

* * *

 _Matt_

"Taking into consideration that Mr. Knight confessed his crime and is on the straight and narrow track to rehabilitation, I have sentenced him to two hundreds hours of community service," the judge sounded the gavel and court was adjourned.

They won.

Riley leapt to her feet cheering. She hugged her brother, _"thank God, thank God,"_ she whispered into his ear, _"I'm proud of you._ " Once outside, they could celebrate properly. She gave Foggy a stiff handshake at first until his best friend decided to pull her into a hug, ignoring how unprofessional it may come off as. The detective laughed. She turned around to hug Matt. "I'm so happy," she said to him, "thank you."

"You're welcome," he said into her ear.

"I think Tommy's going to be okay." This hug was shorter. But as she was pulling away she planted a kiss on his cheek.

It was feathery light, barely noticeable, and he barely had time to react to it when Tommy hooked his arm through hers and was formally introducing his girlfriend Heather to his sister, whom she immediately hugged too. His cheeks heated up, but he could blame that on the sun bearing over him. _For someone who hates affection she really has a lot to give out today,_ he thought smiling to himself as they said goodbye to the Knights to let them have their family moment. She had never been this elated about anything since he first met her, it wasn't possible to even imagine Riley Knight to be joyful or this excited over anything. At the start, she had been afraid for her brother's life, blamed herself for what happened to him. Matt didn't know Tommy very well, but if it wasn't for him, he may have never gotten to know Riley at all.

But despite the celebrations, naturally he found a touch of pensiveness in the joy. This case bound them together and now without it, there was no need for their alliance. It only occurred to him as he was walking away that this was never going to be a long term arrangement. But after everything, he realised that he would have liked it to be. It was silly of him to think like that. Yet, she had been around for so much of what happened these past few months. He was not ready for things to shift all of a sudden, even if it was for the better.

She was never a constant to begin with, was she?

He could appreciate that she had her own life beyond their secret partnership, full of people she loved and whom loved her.

What role did he even have to begin with?

They won in large bouts these past two weeks; Sweeney was off their heels for the time being, Tommy wasn't leaving New York any time soon. There was no imminent disaster to be averted. Soon, she would be completely safe. She would see she didn't owe him anything, and would have no reason to stay.

Despite any of his uncertainties, she was still in contact with him. If it was any indication by the way he enthusiastically sprang from his seat at the office and looked at his phone when he got her text, he was pleased she was.

Foggy took notice and asked him who he was texting. "Your phone is blowing up there Matt."

"It was just the Detective," he should have known that the moment it left his mouth he was going to get an earful from his best friend.

"Oh still in touch huh?" Said Foggy. "Even after we won the case for her brother. You know, you guys have been hanging out a lot actually," he stated, building up to his point.

"Yeah we have," he said flatly, gearing up for whatever wise words Foggy had in store.

"Okay," he said, "I just hope no one catches feelings."

He sighed and rolled his eyes; "Foggy. She's a friend for goodness sake."

Foggy kept his gaze at the papers in front of him as he flipped a page, much like a father posing vague questions about a crush to his son. _But this is_ not _a crush._ "Looked like you had butterflies in your stomach when she hugged you after court that day."

Admittedly he was a bit startled when she kissed him but it was a chaste kiss she could have given anyone she was grateful towards, it was just that he stupidly exaggerated it in his head. "I was happy for her," he countered, with a indifferent shrug; "And what does it matter if I hang out with her? And we work together? Do you have any complaints against her?"

"I don't. I like Knight. She's funny, she gets my jokes. And these days, she even makes you less dreary. She's helped us get cases and given us info we wouldn't have gotten otherwise."

"Then what's the issue?" He held his hands out to him; "seriously, isn't this what you wanted? For me to be looked out for?" Why did Foggy bother going to her after they fought if he wanted them not to work together in the end?

"I know," he acknowledged, resigned; "I just don't want you to get hurt, emotionally, okay?" He said; "this isn't solely a fling or a one night stand that you can get away with by never calling them. When you click with someone, you get invested in them, you just care so much. I saw it college. And then they break your heart or you break theirs. And it wrecks you either way."

That made him think of past girlfriends he did not want to remember. But enough was enough with his best friends grilling."Foggy, will you stop?" He clapped his hands together, "I don't like her."

"Are you sure? Not even a little bit?" He made a tiny measurement gesture with his thumb and index.

"No." _Thank God I'm the only one with super senses in this room._

He raised placating hands; "Okay, I believe you. I do."

He did not believe him.

"But be realistic Matt, that's all I'm saying," added Foggy at the last minute. "This can't go on forever, so don't get carried away."

A few hours later he waited on his rooftop for the Detective in his Daredevil suit. She wanted to meet here since she was doing a late shift at the station.

Even though the conversation had been frustrating, Foggy did have a solid point. _Don't get carried away._ He liked working along side her, it made missions feel less daunting and more exhilarating. _I'm excited to be in danger to catch criminals, to hit people,_ it was no wonder Foggy couldn't bear him some nights. _Although the detective would find that amusing and endearing._

The partnership had it bonuses. But if he got too emotionally invested then he could lose his focus entirely. What if they went out of their way to do things for each other at their own personal risk? But that was already happening wasn't it? He didn't need to stop her from shooting Sweeney. (That still gave him a jittery pause now and then). He didn't need to go after Gardner. She didn't need to pull him from a fire.

On other hand, what if there was something they _wouldn't_ do for each other? A line they would not cross? Would it hurt if she chose to leave him behind? He imagined it would. Did they simply stop being friends if that occurred? Did it mean they betrayed one another? It wasn't just business any more was it? Were they bad for each other? Poison to one another?

How could they be when they always had each other's backs?

His overlapping thoughts eerily reflected when Stick berated him for having close personal relationships, how they weakened him, how they made him fail over and over again...

He heard a footstep land on the roof behind him, soft and deft;

"Did anyone ever tell you, you look like a cat in that costume, kid?"

 _Speak of the devil._

He whirled around. And there he was. Stick.

Matt's entire body was radiating with restrained anger. "What are you doing here?" He demanded through clenched jaw.

He ignored him; "I mean I wouldn't know what it actually looked like. But I hear the snickers. I think they have a point. You must look ridiculous," he said sarcastically.

Matt did not want to lose his control. It was rare he ever did. It almost happened when he confronted Waterhouse but this..this was much worse. It was more than revenge against a stranger he never met before.

This was _hurt_ , soul-crushing and painful like it could puncture his lung. He never thought he would return and be here standing before him. _I should have known. I should have known,_ he cursed the world.

"I told you to never come back to this city."

"Did you really think I'd listen to warnings from you Matty?" He taunted. "You're not expecting someone are you?"

Some things were predictable and Matt knew he wanted to be here, like this, to cause chaos he seemed to thrive on. He scoffed bitterly; "you know I am."

"Christ, if you couldn't even hear me coming, I'd say your teaching is even further behind than I thought."

There he went making him feel like that young, abandoned blind kid all over again.

"I don't need you to teach me anything," he snarled. "Now. Get. Out. Before I make you."

"Oh please, attack away," he waved dismissively, goading him on, gesturing him to go for it. And he realised that was what he wanted. A fight. To beat his ass once more for the sake of it.

"I'm bored and it's been too long."

"Not long enough."

He straightened the bow slung around his body. Matt counted the arrows he had in his quiver, _same bunch he used to kill that defenseless child._ He also made note of other weapons he could discern at the moment on Stick's person.

"I want to meet the detective. Get a measure of her. Listen to what she has to say. How she dragged you into this crazed little partnership of yours. "

For all that Stick had done when he was here last year, for all that he did to him when Matt was younger; he could not let those two worlds collide. Riley would fight. For the sake of the Detective's safety, and their friendship, Stick had to leave. He wasn't ready for this destructive side of his life to be displayed to her. The one where his old mentor spoke of ancient organisations and mythical wars to be fought.

He took several quick strides to him, but still keeping his distance, holding out a warning hand; "I know her," he said, with certainty. "She will put a bullet in you, Stick." He stopped believing that she wouldn't do such a thing, it was a lie he didn't believe anymore. He'd dealt with it, but if she gravely harmed Stick, even despite the fact that his old mentor was a soulless bastard-

He just didn't know if he could deal with the fall out of that. How he could forgive her.

Because what if he couldn't?

"Doubt it Matty, but it'd still be fun for her to try;" Stick replied confidently, the wrinkled edges of his eyes crinkling with a smug smile. "Never put faith in automatic weapons kid, how many times did I have to beat that into your thick skull all those years ago? Anyway," He partially drew his sword, the razor thin sharp steel sighing in the night air.

"It depends if she's fast enough."

 **AUTHOR NOTE:**

 **Hello my loves I hoped you enjoyed the chapter. Court scene was super hard for me so I winged it lol. I've been editing on my phone lately because guess what; IS BANNED IN MALAYSIA. Please bear with me now guys: I am considering totally moving this story off of fanfic website because of the ban. It's just too much of a hassle to export and edit giant chapters on my phone. I am going to move it to Wattpad. This means that in a chapter or two I'll stop updating this story on fanfic and new chapters and the entire story will be on watt pad. If you love Riley/Matt that's where it will be. I am asking you to Please leave a review so I can get your opinion. Thank you for sticking it through with me! The story is far from over yet!**


	30. Chapter 30

**Matt**

Both of them heard her pull down the fire escape ladder at the same time. He whipped his head to face Stick. As Matt prepared to knock the living daylights out of his old mentor, Stick brought down his bow and thwacked him across the brow. He stumbled back. It was shit timing for a fight.

 **Riley**

As she climbed higher and higher up the stairs, she could've sworn she heard grunts and snarls coming from above her. This was supposed to be a normal meet and somehow he still managed to attract trouble?

He would need back up. She crouched below the wall, deciding what to do. _Play it as though I have caught them fighting red-handed. Subdue the outsider._ Grabbing her gun she swung her legs over the wall. Matt had his hands wrapped around the man's throat, it took her a second to see that this man was old, _5 minutes away from collapsing-old_. That was a baffling sight.

"Don't shoot!" Yelled Matt, just as she clocked it, she released the pressure on the trigger. Both men let go of one another, and much to her annoyance the stranger did not even raise his hands in surrender. Matt's posture froze and rippled with apprehension as she trained her gun on them.

"Detective, hold your fire!" Matt tried to assure her, panting. _The guy is nearly 100 and he lost his breath fighting him?_ He edged closer to her, "put it away. Don't shoot him." Apparently they weren't on the same page; instead he was defending the man he was battling ten seconds ago. Also essentially giving away the fact that they were working together to this complete stranger—or possibly not complete stranger?

She didn't look at him, but moved away from his line of path, not about to get deterred by him over this. An unexpected guest at their secret meeting could jeopardize both of them.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

The old man was white, stocky build, around the same height as Matt. He wore khaki clothing and dark sunglasses despite it being evening; "I'm an old friend of— what was your street name again?" He frowned, wrinkles crinkling like old leather as he candidly mocked Matt; "I just remember it being something very tacky."

She could already tell he was going to be a problem. With her gaze never wavering she asked; "Matt who is this?"

"'Matt,'" the man scoffed, "you two are on a first name basis now? Not doing a stellar job at keeping that secret identity of yours secret eh? Running that loud, Ivy League mouth of yours. You want the whole damn world to know."

He couldn't give less of a crap that she could potentially shoot him at any second; she was considering it if he didn't start answering her questions soon.

"He didn't tell me, I figured it out," she pointed out, still proud of that.

"He's not a friend," replied Matt in a low, hard voice, standing at a midway distance between them. At the very least, they should both be working to takedown whoever this was. She could feel it in her blood that something was not right about this, about him. Matt was trying to be firm to control the situation; he was taut with strain after the brief fight, but also, a touch fearful?

Of the old man, or both of them together?

"He's right. I'm more than that; I trained him."

That was a start. "And what are you doing here?"

"I was just passing through," he waved his hand casually, like they were old friends randomly meeting outside a bodega.

"Is that a bow and arrow?" There would be time later to judge the madness of that.

"Indeed it is."

"Take it off and put it on the ground. Now."

"Don't tell me you're being serious."

"Just do it," Matt said.

"Listen to him."

He sighed and placed his palms up placating, he found the entire situation mildly amusing in his own twisted way; "Alright, alright, lady, if it's unsettling you."

"And the sword too."

"You got it." He held the hilt and extricated the sword from the scabbard. It was long and clean, thin as a ribbon when it caught the silver light of the moon, clanging where he tossed it at the ground.

Riley kept the gun level and took a few steps forward and kicked it away from his general area for good measure. "Is that all of it?"

"You can search me," he shrugged, disinterested if she did or not.

Matt adamantly disputed that suggestion;

"No! That's all he has you don't have to search him—"

This man trained Matt; she was not taking the risk of inaction. Riley could deal with one dangerous vigilante a night not two. And besides, she was livid with him for allowing this to happen; "I don't think you're in the position to be telling me what to do," she said sharply.

She marked it in her internal calendar that they discuss the consequences of bringing old mentors to meetings after this was over.

 **Matt**

Riley put her gun in her holster. _First mistake._ She lifted both her arms away from her person to pat down and search Stick. _Second mistake_. He was ready to intervene at any second, examining his mentor's movements with microscopic acuity;

"Don't hurt her," he warned faintly, so only Stick could hear.

His mentor could snap her neck, kick his sword back up and slice her open, or tackle her gun off her and shoot her point blank in the forehead. Matt imagined all the ways she could die.

 _"I should've put an arrow through her heart,"_ Stick mouthed back to him.

Matt's heart thumped and his hand curled into a fist. But of course, he was only playing with his fears. She kicked the bow aside as she started to circle him.

"Why the hell do you have that?" Questioned Riley pointing at it.

"More effective and lethal than what you're packing," replied Stick.

"This is a 380. Glock," she patted her holster.

"A cowards weapon, no skill or discipline goes into yielding that reckless hunk of metal," scorned Stick, his nose scrunching up.

"Yeah, well I wasn't born in the 13 century old man," she stopped in front of him, "Not interested in stealing from the rich and giving to the poor that way."

There was a pause for a delicate millisecond and then he burst out laughing; "the tongue on this one, Matty. Far more interesting than anyone else you've brought home."

Matt rolled his eyes. Riley retreated a pace, far from amused.

"You've shown up at an inconvenient time," she said to them, "interrupted our meeting." But all Matt could think was; she needs to move further away, he can still reach her. He can still hurt her.

The fun and games was over, Stick's countenance became cold; "He and I need a word. You need to leave."

"You think I want to listen to a word you have to say after what you did?" Matt shot back without thinking in front of the detective.

She looked at him; "What did he do?"

"Go on. Tell her." Stick cocked his head at him; it brought him glee to have the news shared with an outsider, he bridled with anticipation for her reaction.

Matt glared at him; "You killed a child for some bullshit mystic centuries old war."

"There was no child in that body," he simply replied, self-assured, as though it was God's command.

"He killed someone?" Riley's gaze flew between them. She was reaching for her handcuffs.

"Oh dear God," Stick harangued, running out of patience; "a pair of righteous dimwits partnering together, how does anything ever get done? Two starkly different ideologies practiced by mutton headed teens; disappointment, blame, and hurt are the only things you're going to get out of this shit show." He said to him; "Your skills are wasted helping a cop. They're not soldiers in this war, just more collateral damage."

Riley glared at him; "if what he's saying is true, that you killed someone; I'm going to have to arrest you."

 _He's daring you to try._ The last thing he wanted was to have a conversation with Stick, but keeping them both here was like containing a blaze of fireworks in separate glass jars. Matt needed more than a few rushed statements to explain things to the detective, he had to persuade her to go, even if she was going to be royally pissed with him;"Riley—"

"Ha, go ahead, arrest me, even without my weapons I could cut through you like cake," he goaded her.

Her fingers hooked into the handcuffs, Matt stepped up to her before she did something they would both regret; "Detective, you should go."

"Me?" She gestured to herself, aghast. "We have work to do; old gramps over here showing up is the inconvenience and also turns out to be murderer that you happen to be defending. Why?"

"I'm not defending him—"

Naturally Stick had to make things worse; "I suggest you cops run off with your tail between your legs, it's the safest bet for you."

"Okay, gramps, take it down a notch," she started to move to him with a confrontational stance.

"You should show some goddamn respect," said Stick.

Matt squared up his chest with hers to become a wall between her and Stick. She shifted her footing rearwards and scowled at him.

"What does he want?" She asked him.

"I'll explain later—"

"No. You explain now," she kept hounding; "or I arrest him."

"You can try, sweetheart. It's not going to end well for you."

Knight was a never-ending slew of questions and Stick was provoking her; "Is that a threat?" Riley eyed him once more.

"Why don't you find out?"

Matt held her arm before she tried. She glanced up at him; "I still can't believe that this 100 year old man trained you to do this." she lowered her volume; unbeknownst to her that he could overhear it.

"Oh no detective," Stick retorted with distaste, "that was all his idea. I never wanted him to become this. I taught him what he knows for other purposes."

"And what would that be?" She caught onto his hint, prying even further. "Is some secret organization of ninja's mad at him?"

"Close detective, but not quite," he snorted; "I have to say that's the first thing you've said that has actually impressed me—"

Jesus they could go on forever. Matt forced her to meet the direction of his gaze; "Riley. Go."

She did not appreciate being told what to do. "If he knows about us, he better not expose us."

"Please, I'll explain later," he said once more, stern but gently. "Go down to the alley and we can talk when I'm done here."

"Fine," she shook his arm off with a final glare. "You can talk 'ninja' business," she said spitefully, not believing any of it. "I have a date Captain America I don't want to be late for."

 **Matt**

That ended as badly as he expected it too. When the coast was clear he said, brusquely; "She's gone. You have two minutes. What do you want?"

"A cop, Matty? Seriously?" Chided Stick. "You can do so much better. Doesn't that go against some ethical code in that fancy lawyer job of yours?"

"I'm not with her." Although we were getting closer, don't know the extent it's imploded because of you showing up.

"Good. No feelings. That makes it much easier to end this charade."

"And why would I do that? Just because you don't approve of it?"

"I thought you were soft in head for putting on this Daredevil persona, prancing around the city in a costume, but now you're working with a detective? I'm disappointed. But then what's new," he gave a one shouldered shrug; the words stung. He always succeeds in doing that to me. "Eventually she's going to come to her senses, because I suppose your looks and charm made her oblivious to your idiocy, and once she does, she's going to throw you under the bus and put you in handcuffs."

 _He thinks he has this figured out doesn't he?_ "You don't know a thing about what's happened between us. You think we haven't had our problems? That she hasn't threatened me or tried to arrest me multiple times?"

"So you're telling me this situation is under control?"

"I trust her," he replied. Which was the wrong thing to say to someone like Stick.

"And here I thought the lady would be the one to catch feelings, but it was you this whole time."

"Would you get to the damn point, Stick," he gritted out.

He retrieved his sword from the ground and returned it to the scabbard;

"Roscoe Sweeney is the man who killed your father. He's here. Say the word, and he dies."

His jaw dropped. Matt shook his head vehemently;

"No," he fiercely protested in a low growl; "You are not allowed to do that."

"And why not? I know we've had our differences Matty, but if he's causing problems in the city, bringing darkness from your past you don't want to deal with. Just ask and I will deliver. As a kind gesture."

"No," he said with a resounding pause. "I do not want you to kill him." _Does he think he's doing me a favor? Like this is a gift beneath the Christmas tree? Is this his perverse way of saying sorry?_

Stick huffed in exasperation. "How long will you stretch this out for? This game you're playing is tiring, tedious, and more shit happens that no one can contain the longer it drags on."

And then it clicked with him. This wasn't a story about how his old mentor cared about who murdered his father… far from it. "You just want me to stop going after Sweeney so I can turn my attention and work for you."

"I want you to get the revenge you deserve. We can look for him right now, tonight. You need to put yourself in the same room as the man who killed your father," he said, darkly. "Maybe then you'll understand."

He glared at him. _This is just another lesson he wants to teach me_. "I want justice, if I wanted him dead I—" I would not have stopped Knight from shooting him. "I don't. You stay the hell out of it."

Stick caught onto his hesitation; "This war needs to end. There are other wars more important than this that you need to prepare for. The only war that matters," he said. "You're a vigilante. I know it, you know it, even if she doesn't admit it, that cop knows it too. That's all you are to her, some lowlife she gets to boss around. You answer to her call, her whim, you let her do that you. But you could be so much more."

"And what is that exactly?" He asked with a grim, disbelieving laugh. "A foot soldier in your fictional war?"

"You still think it's a lie. You have no damn clue. None of you do. You could be a lieutenant leading other fighters like you. But you choose this decrepit life instead. You're better than she is, you could squash her like a mouse with the things you can do."

"On the contrary, she's helped. A lot more than you have."

"It'll come to the day, where they'll be something she does, that you don't like, or vice versa. She won't choose you. And you're going to stand there, your mouth hanging open like a total moron for believing otherwise. You think cops like her care about you? You're dirt on the bottom of their shoe."

Matt wanted to hit him again. "I don't need her to care about me, I just need her resources," even as he said it, he knew that wasn't even remotely true. "And to do that I'll need her trust. And you ruined that tonight."

Stick sighed wearily and then smiled in derision; "You know what kiddo? I don't even know why I bother with you anymore; it goes in one end and comes out your ass."

By now he's gotten tougher against his insults, he wanted him to leave so he could speak with the detective; "If you can't be bothered with me why are you even here?"

"Chinese are moving on the drug trade held by the Mexicans. And they're moving fast. I thought you and your most recent fling would be interested in this mission."

Knight would like to hear more of that, and honestly so would he. But if he was damn sure about anything; Stick was a master manipulator, this offer to trade intel wouldn't come without its costs; "You're not offering this out of the goodness of your heart."

"I'm not here to trade favors, you'll come to me for that when it happens. Apparently the city needs to collapse for you to notice what's really going on beneath the surface of it," he said. "You think my heart is small and black—probably is," he agreed with his own observation, "but what I do is to protect everyone. In the meantime, I'll do anything to stop the Hand from gaining more territory in New York. Think about it," said Stick, retreating into the shadows, he stayed quiet in simmering fury.

"You know how to reach me. Otherwise, I'll deal with it on my own and you can scurry beneath the detective's feet like her little bitch," he shrugged, indifferently; "your call, Matty."

 **Riley**

She waited for him beneath the fire escape, pacing a hole into the ground. At first she wanted to punch him for what occurred. What business did he have with that old man that he needed to shut her out? Why wasn't she informed about this to begin with? What did that old man want? Are they in danger? Because in addition to the mafia alliance they were already dealing with, they had to worry about this?And what does that he know about Matt and I? No one on the entire planet knew about their arrangement besides the two of them, and Foggy, it was exclusive that way and definitely safe. _Three's a crowd._

And then she started to beat herself up over it. She had been distracted lately with Matt, those damn fighting classes; lusting after him like some horny teenager… _you are such an idiot_. She slapped her forehead. She turned when she heard Matt arrive; his figure cast a long shadow in the cramped alley.

"You mind telling me what the hell that was?" She inspected her watch, she had to leave now or Fitzgerald would notice if she sauntered in late from her break. "You have a minute before I have to go back to work."

"I—that's not enough time to explain it," he replied weakly. Then she saw how his demeanor was off. His muscles were coiled tight, yet he was also drained. This pit of guilt formed in her stomach, because of how negatively she treated him. His teacher seemed like someone who was strict and ruthless. Matt must be going through inner turmoil she couldn't see, but must have heightened by her hostility. There was still a piece of the puzzle she was missing. But because she had work, it would have to wait.

"I have the night shift now," said Riley, feigning unconcern to whatever emotional beating he had taken, because she couldn't admit her own fault in his miserableness just yet. _What is wrong with me?_ "Come to the diner in the morning, and we can talk properly." She didn't want a long goodbye. She started to leave.

He turned his body to meet hers as she past him; "Riley. I'm sorry about this," said Matt, the energy felt strained between them. "I didn't know he'd just barge back into my life like that. I promise I'll explain in the morning."

"Okay," she said with a stiff nod. "You better."

 **Matt**

Roughing up criminals as the night wore on did not have its desired effect to stem the frazzled nerves alight in every one of his limbs. He didn't sleep, thinking about his upcoming conversation with Knight. Physically there were dark circles under his eyes he covered with his glasses, mentally he was dealing with the sort of mental burden that could drag you down at any second, make you fall asleep on the sidewalk. The hope that this could be resolved was the only thing keeping him going. How is she going to react to what I tell her? _She's dealt with me being Daredevil, but add to Stick to the equation and it's something else entirely._

The smell of burnt coffee, bacon fat and maple syrup wafted into his nose when the diner door opened with a ding. He was reminded of the home cooked breakfasts his father used to make him, before he endured the strict perfectly portioned diets of the nuns at the orphanage. She was sat at her usual booth.

He stood at the entrance as she chatted to one of the waiter's trying to flirt with her. She saw him and tensed, the false polite smile she plastered on faltered. He felt that familiar pinprick on his skin only her gaze could incite.

He asked a waitress to lead him to her seat. "I hope I wasn't interrupting something?" He asked bemused, as he sat down and the male waiter left them, having failed to get her number. _Good riddance_ , he thought.

"Oh God no. He's far too young for me." She was much calmer now, the night having tired her out; she was just content to listen to him.

"How was work?"

"Long. A handful of interrogations that went nowhere," she grumbled. "Do you want anything?"

"Coffee."

The waitress poured two steaming mugs for them. He made a face at the terrible aftertaste of his cup and added sugar to it. She covered her mouth to stop the smirk tugging at her lips because this was supposed to be a hard, serious conversation they were going to dive into.

"Stick found me at the orphanage, not long after my dad died," he told her, after a bit of small talk, laying himself bare for her. "He was the first person I met who was like me, he's blind too. And he understood me. He trained me. Yeah, he was tough on me, and a grouch but I didn't mind. Then I—" _I tried to replace him as my father_ , the memory still stalled his breath two decades later. "He had to leave, and the next day he was gone. As if he was never there to begin with. I thought I'd imagined the whole thing. Stick was out of my life and then he reappears here, out of the blue. He knows I'm the Man in the Mask." He reminisced to the night where he heard his mentors tap tap in the car park, when Leland Owlsley tazed him.

"He asked for my help and I didn't deny him that. At first it didn't occur to me what he wanted, what he was capable of. Despite how much I resented him for leaving, inside I was still that kid," he felt pathetic to admit that. "But then he killed this defenseless child. So I told him to get the hell of New York and never return. He obviously didn't take that warning seriously."

He lifted his head to her when he was done. She didn't take too long to absorb his story. "Doesn't seem like someone who would listen. But I get it though," said Riley, "some kinds of love are irreparable, and even if they're bad for you, they persist in you." He didn't know whom she referred too where she got that example from, but he immediately felt the same.

"And what did he tell you last night?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, for Stick," he added. "He told me off for partnering with you, for being Daredevil. He told me the Chinese are moving in on the Mexicans."

Riley put down the mug she had brought to her lips; "Is that viable information? Can you trust that?"

"He's a perpetual liar."

"I suppose someone who calls himself 'Stick' of all things, would be difficult to trust. But you can't figure out if he's lying?"

"He taught me the trick," said Matt with a ironic smile. "'Never let your heart or voice falter when you lie.'" He practiced it on nuns who lied to their superiors, and other kids at the orphanage, mainly the bullies. He never spoke about his time there, but he knew Riley would understand. "I was a strange kid in the orphanage. I wasn't bullied because I scared everyone else with what I could do. When the bullies noticed I was getting 'normal' they tried to hurt me. But he taught me how to fight them off."

Most sane, good-hearted people would teach an 11 year old that fists and violence were never the answer. _But they worked for me then. And they still work._

"Too bad I couldn't do the same to the nuns who rapped their rulers on my wrist."

She snorted, "Yeah, I've been there. I once tried to grab the ruler off the nun."

He snickered, incredulous; "were you looking for a death wish?"

"Just wanted trouble, of course," she grinned. They shared a moment of silence at their disjointed, dilapidated childhoods. "But if he's right and they're moving on each other. That's big news."

"He doesn't care about that. Not really."

"What else did he say about them?"

"Nothing… he just said that was happening."

"But, what does he want you to do?" She was wearing the cop hat now. Usually he enjoyed their repertoire, listening to the stories of her cases, but not when he was the one being grilled on it.

"I don't care. I'm not in any rush to pick up the phone and ask," he said rigidly, trying to repress his irritation.

She caged her fingers on the table, business-like; "I think you can guess what I think."

He could. He let out a frustrated sigh; "I am not calling him. I am not doing that." Stick's taunts were beginning to surface in his head; _she just wants to boss you around._

 _It's not like that. It is not like that._

"He has information on the Triad he wants to share," Riley argued. "Why aren't you using it? If they move on the Mexicans that is call for war. We already know they're based here and h—"

"Would you for a second stop being a cop and listen to me?" He cut her off, and she looked taken aback.

He reigned himself in; "He'll want something in return."

"What exactly would he want? Does it have something to do with the kid that he murdered? Who was that?"

Of course she wanted to get her fingers into this. "You're not going to believe me."

"Try me."

He didn't budge. She sighed and leaned back in the booth; "For months I didn't believe my own instincts that you were Daredevil because I didn't think it was possible. Heck, aliens only existed in sci-fi movies that I abhorred as a kid. And then the Chitari were invading from a gigantic asshole in the sky," said Riley, gesturing to the air. She leaned forward on the table; "I am done with ignoring the possibilities. So try me."

He felt like he was retelling a fairytale; "He's part of an organization, or army that has existed for generations," he began, he didn't know if he was even getting the facts correct. "When he was here last time, we were fighting a man called Nobu. He gave me a lot of the scars I have now."

"Is Nobu still alive?"

"No," he explained; "the warehouse burnt down with him in it. He was trying to lure me into a trap to kill me. Nobu was a part of the Yakuza, but Stick told me it went beyond even them, he mentioned 'The Hand'. They're the real enemy. He trained me to be a soldier in a war. He's says it's coming, it's near. The kid he killed last year, he thought he was weapon that could be used by the Hand."

"How was a kid supposed to be a weapon?" She asked, angered.

"I don't know," he recalled Stick's rambling on the 'Black Sky'. "Maybe he was important to someone or maybe he knew something that could've changed the tides. I don't know."

"And Stick is meant to be on our side?" Riley asked, doubtfully. "Because there doesn't seem to be any good or bad guys here, if the side that's supposed to be good is murdering children."

"Yeah. Exactly that. It's why I can't work with him."

"He's upset that you are who you are and you didn't want to join him."

"I disappointed him." Matt said; "I didn't want his lifestyle. I mean I would never have gone to college if I followed him, never would have become a lawyer. Met Foggy, and Karen… and you."

Riley was more empathetic. "Let me guess; he thinks having real relationships with people and having people you care about, is a liability?"

He quirked his brow at her accurate deduction; "He does."

She pushed a piece of hair behind her ear as she looked at him; "he doesn't know you. You're not a mindless soldier. And I'm glad you're not."

He was glad too.

"What else did he have to say about me behind my back?"

"You don't want to k—" but then she frowned at him and he reconsidered, but refrained from mentioning Stick's assumption that they were a couple, or that I like her; "well, he called you a mouse."

"A mouse? Are you serious? Damn he is old."

She absentmindedly stirred the coffee that wasn't being drunk; "so… he trained you for some ancient war against 'the Hand,' he killed someone, a weapon that looked a lot like a harmless little boy. He hates me because I'm the police and he's disappointed in you," she summarized, and it sounded insane coming from her; "is that all?"

The hardest part, was the part he kept for last, the part that could erase whatever they'd said to each other in the minute leading up to this; "No, it's not."

"What else is there?"

Matt braced himself; "He offered to kill Roscoe Sweeney. For me. Or he made it sound like he was doing it for me—"

Riley blinked as it occurred to her the gravity of what he said, and shook her head; "Wait. So he knows where Sweeney is?"

"I don't know," he said, cursing in his head for telling her. "I—I didn't ask."

"You didn't?" She echoed, struck with disbelief.

He shook his head.

And they spiraled into an argument;

"Why?" She demanded, crossly.

"Because, I didn't want him to murder someone for me," Matt ground his teeth.

She was breathing in and out fast, she held her temples, stricken; "the entire force is looking for Sweeney, we've been looking for him for _months_. You could have potentially uncovered his whereabouts but you don't ask for that intel? Are you out of your mind?"

Everything Stick said would happen was coming true.

"I didn't ask for obvious reasons," he staunchly stood his ground. "I thought you understood why."

"I do understand," she said, trying to keep the growl out of her voice. "But obviously he knows more about the crime in New York than either of us combined. And I can't fathom why you wouldn't want to take that opportunity if it meant that we could fight this and gain an upper hand."

"We don't need his help."

"Yes we do."

"No. We don't."

"You're being selfish," she lashed out, and then her features froze as she realized she overstepped. But it was too late for her to take it back.

Matt gripped the table until his knuckles were white, thanking God it was glued to the wall or he would have shoved it. "You know… I don't want to believe that he's right about us. That we have a problem. I really don't. But you're making it hard not too."

A look of hurt splashed across her face and took a bite out of his chest. "That's not fair. Don't blame me for this." Knight couldn't look at him, just whipped her head to stare out the window.

He leaned forward; "you must understand that Stick is someone who could drag us into hell with him," he explained to her, unyielding. "You don't want to get involved, okay? Trust me. We cannot go to him."

Riley breathed out through her nose and bit her lip; he could tell she was still furious. It was the first time he had denied her a case. Their coffee was cold by then. It had been a push and pull between them for the past half hour, a delicate rope between mountains to tread on.

He didn't know if they were okay, if they needed mending, or if they'd ever return to what they were before, whatever they were.

After an achingly long silence she respected his decision and didn't push further; "Okay. I understand," said Riley, clipped and passive aggressive;

"We'll…find another way, that doesn't involve Stick."

That was miles from kindness and the promises of loyalty they were giving each other a split second ago.

"I need to go home," she announced abruptly, standing. "It's been a long night."

He sighed, resigned but didn't stand up with her. "Okay."

She stepped out of the booth and then stopped, touching the table near him. "I have to ask… are we safe from him? He doesn't like the idea of you and I. I'd hate to think I let a threat like him slip under my nose."

Even if they were having a problem, her continued trust in him weighed a lot on his shoulders.

"Yes," he said. "We're safe."

Yet he wasn't certain that were true.

 **Riley**

She went just over two weeks with little to no contact with Matt. Mainly because she was busy at work. But also because, she knew she had hurt him with her tenacity to pursue the lead presented to them like an apple on a tree by Stick. And he had hurt her by not doing what he said he would— helping her get Sweeney. They were both acting like kindergarten children, avoiding each other except for polite nods in the precinct lobby if ever they were in the same room. Their relationship had fractured to the point that a _hello_ , was too much hurt and interaction.

In the diner, she had just come off a 12-hour shift of relentless interrogation and hunting criminals, and she'd projected that onto him, asking away without a filter. She felt that pang of familiarity when they shared small anecdotes of their childhood. Riley understood his reservations against working with Stick. Sometimes it was hard to understand the place where a friend or anyone drew their insecurities and fears from, but Riley always tried to be sympathetic. Always.

She handled the other news reasonably. And then he dropped that final bomb on her and she had not been able to contain herself.

It took a day or two to come to terms with it. It was both of their faults. And to be fair, she had been a bitch to him when he told her; when they could have sorted it out if she had been calmer. _I can't even admit that out loud._

This war was something Matt could not risk involvement in. But this was here and now. She could not wager bringing down the Chinese Triad on a tall tale of a war that was coming, or may not come, or was on their heels. And she could definitely not wager getting Roscoe Sweeney on that either.

She knew some efforts were worth the risk.

She felt even more terrible about herself just thinking that.

Sweeney was still in the wind but a handful of his lieutenants had been found, and then released and then recaptured, paying for whatever expensive lawyer they found to bend the justice system to their will. As for the consequences of one mafia invading the territory of another. The city was already bleeding. First had been a few raids on Chinese gambling dens, and then a shootout attributed to the Punisher or the Mexicans, they didn't know. A butcher shop had been hit by the Triad to retaliate. It was only going to escalate from there. Thus far, Riley and the 15 precinct had managed to deal with them on their own.

The space they were having would be good, for them to take a breather from one another. Yet despite the current rift in their partnership…she missed his support on cases. And to be completely honest, she missed him too. She remembered his stupid yet endearing face when he took a gulp of that bitter coffee, how she tried not to laugh at him.

In hindsight she should have warned him the diner coffee was shit.

Today she was visiting Gale. She slowed down by the flower shop near Metro General to pick up more peonies for her. There was one more batch left on the stand. As she reached for it, her phone started to ring in her pocket, she paused in her steps to check the message. _Raid on gambling den, three arrested, a dozen injured, including four civilians_. Concerned and distracted, Riley half-glimpsed at the bouquet just as someone else snatched it and rushed to the cashier.

"Hey I was going to get those!"

The flower thief glanced over his shoulder at her as he was taking his wallet out of his pocket. She had a better look of him then. Jet-black curly hair, a foot taller than her, clean-shaven with a white-toothed smile that was easy and attractive.

Which was all the more exasperating.

"Sorry, you looked like you were distracted," he said, apologetically.

She was far too old to be a put down like some millennial preoccupied by technology, but she wasn't going to let this spoil her mood; "don't worry about it."

"Do you have any more peonies?" She asked at the counter.

"Last one, m'am sorry," said the shop assistant; "we do have some lovely hydrangeas."

"It won't do, she's allergic to everything else."

She would have to make do without flowers. When she reached Gale's room, she greeted her first. And then her eyes went round when she saw the man from the flower shop in the one of the two empty seats beside the bed.

"If it's any consolation, I said they were from both of us," he said with that same heart-stopping smile.

Gale chuckled, she was on the hospital bed, hooked onto monitors; "Riley this is Kyle. Kyle, Riley."

Bemused, she shook his hand. "Nice to meet you Kyle."

He didn't let her hand go, "I do genuinely feel crap for snatching those peonies from you, but I didn't want to show up empty handed."

"Wait, how did you know I was visiting her when we were in the store?"

"Female friend who's allergic to everything except those," he indicated the peonies in a vase on the nightstand; "I figured it out."

"Kyle is a friend from college," chimed in Gale.

"Are you a nurse too?"

"Physiotherapist."

"If you're a friend of Gale's from college then you must've partied just as hard she did."

"I'm not too sure," he laughed, "You know how there's always a mum of the crew? That was me," he tapped his chest proudly.

It was her turn to laugh. Riley took the seat next to him; "I'm looking forward to hearing all the stories."

"I thought you'd be right behind me to come in, but you walked in much later," mentioned Kyle.

"I had to stop by and say hello to some doctors."

"Are you a doctor or—?"

"I'm a detective."

He whistled; "no way. Gale always had the most interesting friends."

She was already starting to forgive him for the flowers.

As the three of them spoke she started to enjoy his company even more. He laughed effortlessly, besides the rude flower snatching he swore he was actually a nice guy. And he was. Kyle was in the multidisciplinary team administering physiotherapy to Gale. The wound site was still swollen right now, swallowing and talking was painful without a steady dose of painkillers. A stiff neck was promised once she was discharged. And Riley was glad to have people looking out for her already. He was also enraptured by whatever she had to say about being a cop, which was always a bonus.

"I think he likes you," said Gale when Kyle went to the bathroom.

And then it was like they were two teenage girls gabbing over boys in magazines.

"He doesn't like me," she countered, sipping her water to hide her flushed cheeks.

"He's hot though right?"

"Well duh. I half wanted to smack him for grabbing those peonies first, and also furiously kiss him."

"Yes!" Gale clapped her hands together, as if that sealed the deal; "he's single. You're single. I think it's fate. You can tell your kids about that adorable cliché as hell flower shop story too. I was squealing on the inside. Come on."

Riley hated to disappointed her; "nope, I'm not dating right now," she said, without even a second thought.

"Oh bullshit."

"Seriously, I—I don't have time for that," she stuttered, _I could actually, if I made time for it._

"You never had a problem before," argued Gale; "unless… is there someone you're hiding from me?"

Her mind fell into the gutter on that one.

"No there isn't anyone," she hesitated. _There really isn't_ , she told herself willingly. "It's just what I've decided. I don't need someone to be in my life right now. I'm not interested."

 _To be fair, it was the universe that decided for me._

Gale reached for her arm that she rested on the side of the bed near where the IV hooked into her wrist. She smiled sadly; "Babe, if this is about what happened to me. That shouldn't stop you."

She went rigid. Riley was not over putting Gale in harms way. Even though her friend insisted that it was terrible luck, there was still a small part of her that took the hit for it, despite what anyone advised her. Gale would not be out of the hospital for at least another two more months, and that wasn't even including the rehab for another additional 4 months, minimum. Gale was a nurse who's whole life halted because of the injury, when she could be working and living her life benefiting not only her own tireless soul but treating others who wheeled through Metro General hospital on stretchers.

 _I prevented that. Me._

They'd spoken about it a few times, in angst, hushed discussions, and Gale -being the Godsend angel she was- always forgave her; "Please, we've gone over this I—"

"I know we have. And I'm telling you; 'I endanger everyone I love,' is not a valid excuse, because it's melodramatic and frankly, lame. Try again, Knight."

"He's your friend," Riley said, unconvincingly.

"Um, so? I'm not asking you to marry him—even though you have to make me your maid-of-honour if you do—just go out with him. Ask him out after you guys leave me."

"Excuse me? _I_ ask him out?"

Gale rolled her eyes, "oh stop it, a woman like you does not get to suddenly become a chicken when it comes to asking out men you want to screw. Go for it."

Besides the 'endangering people I love' card, there was the 'I am crap at long-term relationships' card, and the 'I'm a workaholic' card. Each of which Gale would have made fun of her endlessly for.

"I don't know, I just—"

"Please," she held her arm a little tighter, "do it for me."

And of course, she couldn't say no.

Within a week they went on two dates.

The first was a casual lunch date after they left Gale in the ward; the second was a bit more formal at a cozy restaurant in town.

For that she dressed up, and wore make up and heels. She was definitely out of her comfort zone, but Gale was strongly against the idea that she roll-up to the restaurant in sneakers and jeans. As a cherry on top she sprayed perfume she recommended onto her neck and wrists. It was fruity and sweet smelling definitely not what she would normally reach for if she ever wore perfume.

The dress she borrowed was silver with a plunging neckline and fluttery butterfly sleeves. _I look good_ she thought as she stood in front of the mirror after putting it on, she nearly didn't recognize herself. Until her eyes zoomed in on the ugly bullet scar at the center of her chest. _Fuck_. She groaned in annoyance as she touched it; it was smooth and bumpy on the edges, darker than the surrounding skin there, and the size of a quarter.

Usually she blocked the memories it stirred because it reminded her of death and grief and loss. She never exposed it like this to the public before, she only ever glimpsed it in private when she was changing or stepping out of the shower. She tugged on the sleeves of the dress and pulled fabric over her chest to hide the wound, but it sprung back and concealed nothing, probably revealed it more.

She felt even more insecure of her body, she ran her hands down her breasts that filled out the dress a bit too much, then to her waist, feeling for the stretch marks at her hips through the thin material, and then over where the stab wound in her stomach was.

How was anyone supposed to hold her or kiss her there, with that unsightly gash across her abdomen?

 _How am I going to explain them to him if we sleep together?_

But she was running late for the date by then and decided to just tell him the bullet wound was a birthmark. Saying, "remember those three cops shot by Fisk? I was one of them, the other was my best friend and the third was a dirty cop. I'm the only one who survived. The odds were not in our favor," would not be a chill, funny second date story.

She was restless and fussing with her appearance the whole evening.

Nevertheless, just like the first date, it had gone smoothly, he never asked about the scar. He was sweet and funny, and he cared a lot about his patients. He was family orientated, raised by a single mum and had two younger siblings, both in the healthcare field. He walked her home. They stood outside below the steps. She went in for a one handed hug and as she pulled away he gently titled her chin up with his finger. His baby blue eyes skimmed over her face, her smile was inviting and he leaned down and kissed her.

"I had a really good time," he whispered against her lips.

"I did too," she kissed him back softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. She had been anxious to get back to dating but it had not been as dreadful as she thought it would be. He seemed like a genuinely good guy she wanted to get to know more. And she needed this. To feel like her life was getting back on track.

"Do you want me to come up?" He asked holding onto her hips, deepening his kiss.

"I do," she said brushing her fingers down his cheek, "but not tonight. I have to get back to work." That was partly true. Besides being self-conscious, she didn't feel at ease with herself around him yet, not in a negative way as if he made her afraid, she just didn't like him enough yet. Which was perfectly normal in her experience at the beginning of anything new with someone. Also, she was supposed to meet with Matt for the first time in weeks tonight.

What time was he supposed to come over?Would they be discussing the Triad today? Would that be too sensitive to broach? Riley felt a pop of panic in her chest at the thought.

 _Shut up. You're making out with this hottie and you're thinking about crime and Matt Murdock?_

She pulled away from him, both of them breathless, as they said goodbye and made plans to see each other again over the weekend.

With a positive start to the evening, the rest of the night and the prospect of seeing Matt again did not feel that trying. She definitely looked forward to getting back to her usual attire and wiping off the layer of makeup. As she walked up the stairs to her apartment she texted Matt to specify the time to meet, she wanted to settle down and change out of her outfit before that, gather her thoughts after their unfortunate argument at the diner.

As she opened her front door he was already at her window, and her nerves started to get to her; "Hey. I thought we weren't supposed to meet until later."

"I know, but it's an emergency."

It didn't feel right to skim over the residual tension from their last conversation, to pretend it didn't happen. It was disrespectful to their relationship to do that. "Before we talk. I wanted to say; I'm sorry," she said, and strode a little closer. He stayed silent, his features unreadable with the mask still on; "I know we haven't spoken in a while. I was mad, and I'm sure you were too. But I was thinking like a cop, not as your friend."

He breathed out; "I'm sorry too. It's…water under the bridge," he waved his hand.

She smiled faintly, "good," she said, taking his word for it and leaned on a chair near him to bend down and unbuckle her shoes.

"So…did you, come from somewhere?" He asked, out of the blue, tilting his chin to her; "dressed like that?"

"Oh," Riley stalled, like a failed car engine. The apology she was mentally prepared for. Not this.

"Um…I… was on a date."

His face tightened imperceptibly and disappeared just as swift. "Oh. How did it go?"

"Good," she replied, stiff as a plank. "Might see each other again."

He crossed his arms, guarded, standing far from her, leaning on the wall by the window. "I'm happy for you; that makes one of us attempting to have a normal social life."

"Well, you can too, if you got out of that suit in the evening," she replied and it came out much more lamenting than she intended. The last thing he'd ever want was her lecturing him on how to be better at being normal, or worse…pity him.

His smile was soft and resigned, it said to her _not likely going to happen_. It downed her spirits. And she tried to avoid the thoughts as to why it did. Maybe it was because she wanted him to be happy too, to make the time to find someone too. Didn't they both deserve that, after everything?

She cleared her throat; "I suppose it'll be difficult to explain your scars to your parade of one nightstands and broken hearts," she teased, carefully stepping away from any uncomfortable ground. She knew he had more than she did.

He smacked forehead and groaned; "Let me guess; Foggy told you that."

"He might have mentioned it when he was really mad at you."

"Yeah, maybe once upon a time, before I started doing this," he was trying to joke about it, but it fell short. "I don't do that anymore," said Matt, he took a deep breathe; "I mean, you get it."

"I do. Completely," she replied in a soft knowing voice, reading between the lines.

"So, who is he?" Asked Matt, his arm muscles coiling, he was smiling listening to her, faintly amused, interested like any male friend would be, but she saw the unmistakable tick in his jaw.

"A friend of Gale's. He seems like a really good guy and I like him but—" she stopped.

They shouldn't be talking about this.

She thought about Gale getting shot. If Matt wasn't committed to anyone because he thought he was putting people he cared for in danger…did that mean she was being reckless by being with someone?

"You don't think it's a bad idea do you?"

"What, you dating? Why would it be bad?" He asked, blunt as a hammer.

"Just—" she was hanging herself dry with lack of explanation, but no, she had a rational reason to ask of his opinion on her dating life. "Because of what I do," she finally said, finding it, _or pulling it out of my ass_. "You know, I haven't been the safest person to be around these past few months. You were technically just a civilian when Rob Sweeney kidnapped me."

"You're safe now. If anything, the guy is the one who's safe just by being around you."

She blushed. "That's sweet of you to say." They smiled at each other, but somehow, his smile didn't look too happy. Riley diverted her eyes from him to sit on the chair and take off her horrendous heels;

"Enough about me. Back to the emergency."

 **Muahahaha, there's me throwing a wrench into the Riley/Matt ship, but they were getting too happy, I'm a masochist I guess. I also enjoyed writing about Riley's insecurities, I mean we can have a badass detective who gets nervous about the way she looks too, can't we?**

 **On another note:**

 **Thank you for your continued support! Yes Philkins27 I see you hahaha. I'm sorry if I can't address any reviews one on one, I can't find where to look at story reviews on the phone app, can anyone help? I'm glad you guys like Riley/Matt's friendship, more long conversations and flirting between them to come.**

 **I've decided to keep our story on Fanfiction for the time being as the first place to get updated. I've gathered so many lovely followers here that I don't want to lose, and yeah it's a bit meh to not be able to access the full site here and the app is so shitty it keeps shutting down on me and won't save the format with the Italics like Word, anyone help with that too? (I email the text to myself and then copy paste it here). So I'm sorry if any of their _thoughts_ are not in their usual format I had to manually do them all over again and may have missed a few. **

**I may put it on wattpad if that website stops glitching on me as one reviewer requested I check it out. Overall, I just want it to be accessible to everyone. I think the best place would be to put it on Ao3 (it's not banned here) but I'm on a waiting list to join it, lol. Anyway, hope you guys liked the update and are doing well yourselves.**

 **See you soon.**


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